Make Me Care
by Liv Wilder
Summary: Post-ep for 2x24 Beckett deals with the aftermath of Gina showing up at the precinct and then leaving for the summer with Castle. She makes great efforts to move on with her life, and then disaster strikes. "Make. Me. Care." She uttered the words one last time in a tissue thin voice, as cruel, embarrassing tears coursed down her cheeks. "Too late, Kate. You already do."
1. Chapter 1 - Denial

_A/N: This is kind of a weird one. I saw a YouTube compilation from a recent Nashville episode over the weekend. It was taken from a series I haven't seen yet. One of the scenes in the video really shocked me, and the words "Make me care" wouldn't leave me head. What I meant was that the writers on that show had made me care about these fictional characters, and I wanted to try and put some of that feeling into my own writing. This is what it turned into. Shouldn't be a long one. Famous last words!_

_ Also, the next chapter of "Risking It All" is almost finished too, for those of you following that one._

_This story takes place a couple of weeks after the Season 2 finale. When the action says "Present Day" that's the time period it's referring to: a little after 2x24. Love to know what you think._

* * *

_**Chapter 1 - Denial**_

"Make me care," she chanted, pummeling on his chest with her balled-up fists. "Make me. Make me care, make me care, make me care."

He held on to her firmly, felt the second exhaustion began to kick in: the drum beat of her thumping, clenched fingers slowing, her arms getting tired, the sobs wracking her chest easing to hiccups that stuttered around the breathless gasps she made for air.

"Make. Me. Care." She uttered the words one last time in a whispered, tissue thin voice, as cruel, embarrassing tears coursed down her cheeks.

"Too late, Kate. You already do."

* * *

_Sixteen days earlier…_

"Richard? You ready?"

She felt the scorch of humiliation begin to burn her cheeks the second blond, bubbly, perfectly presented Gina Griffin slipped her arm around Castle's waist, grinned her saccharin "he's all mine" smile, sending up smoke signals as to the reason for her surprise appearance in the precinct, as clear as if she'd struck the match herself.

Kate couldn't even manage to cover up her interest in the reason for the publisher's visit. She practically laid her heart on a platter when she said, "I'm sorry, I—I didn't think the two of you got along."

In retrospect, the air seemed to reek of sex when Castle explained, "We didn't. But then last night on the phone, we started talking..." and Gina added, "And we ended up talking for hours. Just like old times."

Their matchy-matchy, sickening grins, the touchy-feely familiarity between them, the knowledge that her colleagues were all watching her crash and burn through the break room blinds; all of it made her feel sick to her stomach. Finishing each other's sentences was supposed to be _their_ thing, and here was this…this _reject_ from the Manhattan chapter of the Richard Castle harem stealing her thunder. But then maybe he performed the same party trick with all women. Maybe it wasn't some _special_ connection they shared after all.

Suddenly she wanted them out of there, and then she wanted to crawl into a hole and forget she ever met this man. But Richard Castle never did what she wanted, not without putting up a fight first, whether he knew what he was doing or not. And this time was no different.

"Yeah. So...I'm sorry. You were, uh, you were telling me something," he grinned, a special kind of smugness spread all over his face as he stood basking in the attention supplied by not one, but two young, intelligent, beautiful women.

Her cheeks ached, hell, even her teeth hurt when she forced out the words, "Yeah, I wanted to say, have a great summer."

His reply was delivered with the kind of finality that said _ending_ all too clearly. "You, too. And like you said, it's…it's been really, really great."

Really great. _Really?_

Shaking her hand was the final ignominy. The female who had her arm wrapped around him was his enemy until eight hours ago. It was clear he was a fickle fool if he could perform a one-eighty like that for the woman who merely published his novels, while also holding down the dubious honor of being the _second ex_-Mrs. Richard Castle. What love was to be found in among that confused mess of roles? And his insincerity, his sudden smitten glow, the whole young love charade they were playing out fooled no one but themselves.

And yet, as much as he disgusted her and much as she felt betrayed, she couldn't let him go without one last humiliation.

"See you in the fall?" She couldn't help herself with the question, twisting the knife a little deeper when she should have turned on her heel already; walked away from this car crash of a scene to begin strategizing how to move on.

His reply merely echoed her sentiment, the words hollow: delivered, as an empty repetition of sound might be, not a genuine answer to her question. "See you in the fall." Just words. Definitely time to move on.

* * *

And move on she had, in some senses. Poorly maybe, but she had at least _tried_ to move forward over the last two weeks. She had made positive strides to put him out of her mind via a series of rash, frightening deeds she deemed necessary to eradicate him from her life, since they were both proactive and therapeutic. She had switched from coffee to tea, for example - despite the headaches that felt like some sadist driving nails into her skull with a claw hammer. Drastic maybe, but she had made the switch, and now she was sleeping better as a result.

She had put in for a new partner, only slightly pleased that departmental budget cuts would preclude this from happening for several months at least, buying her a reprieve for this particularly irrational decision. Her thinking was warped: if she had a new partner, he could never come back and be her shadow ever again. Position filled, no vacancies here, keep walking please. The fact that she had no partner when he arrived, and had never actually wanted one since Royce left the job, seemed a minor point to overlook in this drive to clean house, to fill up every Castle-shaped hole with something new.

In the next phase of her campaign, she had also emptied her desk drawers of all the crap the writer had managed to secrete in there over the last couple of years, before he swanned off with his ex-wife leaving a slew of detritus behind him like the departing tide – all the paperclip daisy chains, the used Post-It notes bearing shopping lists, snatches of dialogue, scary little doodles she didn't want to attempt to decipher, even women's phone numbers! The half-eaten Clif bar and the stale packet of Planter's peanuts, the soggy pack of gum and the cherry flavored condom he insisted was "just a joke, Beckett" – all of this went into the trash the first day back after her disastrous weekend alone.

Her final act of defiance, of washing that man right out of her hair, had involved carting his tatty old chair off to the janitor's cubby: a maintenance room at the end of the hall. The bare, windowless concrete box that smelled of Clorox, provolone cheese and Listerine, for reasons Kate had never wanted to contemplate, now became home the this most visual reminder that Castle had left the building for good. And not only that – he had left her for…or rather _with_ another woman on his arm, making no attempt to hide or sugarcoat what the pair of them were about to head off into the literal sunset to do.

Well, good riddance to bad rubbish, she said to herself as she gave the chair one final kick, sending it sliding into the back corner of the airless little room. Out of sight out of mind indeed.

And then this! Just as her heart was beginning to heal. A _disaster _too painful to face up to. She doesn't want to know.

* * *

_Present Day…_

Torrential rain on the Long Island Expressway.

_Deep breath._

Diesel spill…speeding…some kind of argument…median barrier…out of control…

_Deep breath._

Airbags…no seatbelt...guardrail…totaled…

_Deep breath._

Next of kin…blood type…surgery…organ donor…

In and out the words had drifted, barely registering in between heartbeats, forming a dotted line in her conscious mind where professionalism should have drawn a full, clear picture, dot-to-dot.

"Beckett," said Ryan, cautiously holding out a cup of chamomile tea. "We'll all go together. Traffic should be easy at this hour…"

"Hell, we can light her up if we have to," chipped in Esposito, finally letting her shoulders go and guiding her to a chair by her elbows.

"I can't, guys," she murmured, taking a careful sip and allowing the hot liquid to warm her chilly insides. A summer's day and she felt frozen to the bone.

"What do you mean you can't?" asked Esposito, crouching down in front of her, holding onto the edge of her desk for balance and resting a tentative hand on her knee.

"Are you…_deaf?_" she muttered quietly, ignoring him after that to take another mouthful of tea.

He stood up to consult with Ryan, slightly turning his back on Kate to do so. He glanced over his shoulder, eyeing her cautiously before speaking. "What the heck, man? Did you see the state she was in just a second ago and now she's…she's _what?_ Too busy to go to the hospital?"

"I'm sitting right here. I can hear you, you know," snapped Kate, her bite dying away to listlessness immediately. She looked like she was in some kind of trance.

Esposito turned back to face her. "Good. Well, if you can hear us, what's with the "don't give a damn" routine all of a sudden? He's your _partner!_"

"_Was._"

"Beckett," Ryan interceded, laying a hand on Espo's arm to calm him down and get him to back off a little, to give her space. "Castle needs you."

Kate stared up at him, a look of betrayal in her eyes. "Ryan, I thought you of all people would understand."

"I do. I know how much he hurt you…leaving with Gina like that. But in his defense—"

"His _defense?_ You both want to _defend_ him all of a sudden?" she asked, looking from one shocked face to the other. "What's that all about? You spent the last two years making his life unpleasant, poking fun, laying the big brother act on him any chance you got. So…what's changed all of a sudden?"

"You know what's changed. Guy's in the hospital, Beckett. Doesn't look good," Esposito reminded her.

She looked off to the side, moving her head as fast as if she'd been slapped, before rallying and turning back to face them. "Don't _say_ that. Okay, do _not_ say that!" she demanded, raising her voice again. "You do not get to tell me what to do," she tacked on irrationally.

"We're not trying to, boss. We just thought you'd wanna to be there."

"I already said my goodbye."

Ryan glanced at his partner, worry and confusion, maybe even a sense of powerlessness, chasing fear across his sharp, pale features. "You don't mean that."

"Try me."

* * *

In the end she only followed them out to their car because Montgomery made it an order. They handed their active case over to the day shift and headed out to the Long Island Jewish Medical Center in New Hyde Park. The car ride was silent. Kate rode in the back, her eyes unfocused, lashes flickering every few seconds as the changing scenery whipped by outside the window.

She felt as if her heart had been torn out of her chest, a hollow, empty cavern left in its place. She warred with herself while Esposito drove, every bump they hit a painful jar to her stiff, tensed up joints and muscles. She didn't want to care. Castle had his own life. Having Gina show up at the precinct that day had only served to underline that fact. Women were interchangeable to guys like him: guys with fast cars, good manners, multiple homes and money to burn. You ask one hot female to go with you to the Hamptons, she says no, you find yourself a replacement. Easy come, easy go. Even if the shallow pool you're now fishing in means the replacement model is your second ex-wife.

She hated herself for thinking like that. She hated that his departure had been eating at her for over two weeks. She hated that every time she thought about him, before today, the only picture available to her in her head, after two years of hard work, learning to trust, all the laughter and the fear, case after case, long hours, late nights and more coffee than she ever wanted to think about…after all that, the only picture she could find in her messed-up brain to remember him by was one of Gina with her arm around him and his around her as they walked away, leaving her alone and humiliated in her own precinct house.

But the thing she hated most of all was that she knew she was in large part to blame for all of this – start to finish. She had delayed, she had dragged her feet, she had played some cautious, coy little game, until she worked up enough courage to dump her own boyfriend for the chance to take up his offer. Only she delayed too long, and now they were headed out to Long Island to see her partner lying in some hospital bed, and yet again she might be too late.

"What do we know?" she finally leaned forward between the two front seats to ask.

Where the urge came from she couldn't say. He had humiliated her, but that didn't mean she had stopped caring. And the harder she had to work to forget him, the bigger piece of herself she realized he already owned. Besides, it wasn't as if he was completely clued in on her thinking the day Gina showed up. He'd spent days before that asking her to go to the Hamptons with him, facing rejection after rejection, her scoffing dismissals and ridicule while she carried on as if she was too good for him, and still he kept at it. Until he stopped. Castle blinked first, moved on first. Hell, maybe she'd left him feeling as emasculated and humiliated as she now felt. Whatever the truth, they had a past; a past she was now headed to some unknown hospital to confront.

"He's in the E.R.. Sedated, vented. That's all we know."

"And the car?"

"A total wreck. Nassau Country Highway Patrol said how anyone got out—"

"_Anyone?_" asked Kate, gripping the edge of the pleather front seat until the material compressed in her hand. "Was there someone else in the car with him?"

Ryan glanced at Esposito. The Latino cop nodded and then his partner swiveled in his seat to face the rear.

"Gina Griffin, his—"

"I know who she is," snapped Kate, a wave of nausea cresting in her throat. "What about her? She was in the car with him? Was she the _driver?_" she demanded, fury flooding her system.

"No. No, Castle was at the wheel," explained Esposito, studying Kate in the rearview mirror.

"And they both got out?"

One look at Ryan's face said it all, but he laid it out for her anyway. "Gina was pronounced D.O.A. on scene, Beckett. She didn't make it."

Kate covered her mouth and closed her eyes, panic clawing at her insides.

"Hit the lights, Javi. Hit the goddamn lights."

_TBC..._

* * *

_Note: Gina is known by both the surnames Griffin and Cowell on IMDB etc. Not really sure why. I've gone with Griffin, just so you know._

_So, that was a little dark and OTT. But it's fun to have a balance, a good helping of drama, when you're immersed in writing happy fic. Hope you'll give it a chance. Liv_


	2. Chapter 2 - Anger

_A/N: Thank you to all of the readers who cared enough to leave a kind message or a review. Really appreciate it. _

_If anyone is in any doubt about my views here, and I'm only talking to two or three people, I'm placing blame equally. So if you think I'm elevating Kate while treating Castle as a doormat or whatever crazy thought you might have, you're wrong. There are faults on both sides, which you would see if you removed your own bias-goggles long enough to read the words in front of you. _

_Onwards... :)_

* * *

**_Chapter 2 – Anger_**

Her palms were sweating by the time Esposito pulled into a parking spot in front of Long Island Jewish Medical Center's Emergency department. The sparkling white and glass building rose up in front of them, the sun blinding where it bounced off the shiny, high-tech façade as Kate eased her tensed up body out of the back of the Crown Vic, unfolding her limbs like she was eighty-five. She had no sunglasses to shield her eyes from the glare, no purse even. Just her cell phone and her apartment keys jammed into the pocket of her lightweight summer jacket, since they'd left the Twelfth in such a hurry, and with her as something of a hostile witness to boot.

Great swathes of the parking lot were covered by deep puddles, a hangover from the dreadful rainstorm the night before. The weather front had swept right along Long Island's barrier shore, skirting the tip of lower Manhattan, while dumping several inches of summer rain onto Queens and Brooklyn, even flooding some of streets with waterfront homes in Shore Acres and Rosebank over on Staten Island. As the heat of the day increased, these puddles were capped by fine, translucent layers of mist that wavered and hesitated for whole brief seconds, before evaporating away into invisibility.

"You ready, Beckett?" asked Esposito, eyeing her carefully. He looked as if he expected to have a fight on his hands.

"Eh—" She shielded her eyes with her hand, and then turned away from them to take in the impressive, expansive campus the ultra modern hospital facility occupied.

"Beckett?" prompted Ryan, giving her a weak smile when she turned to face him.

"Why don't you guys go on in…find out what's what. I'll just stretch my legs out here for a bit. Get some air."

The boys looked at one another, disbelieving that this could be their boss in any shape or form. Esposito was the one to crack, again, to give it to her straight.

"Beckett, we have to go in. All of us. Together…_now._"

"Hmm?" she hummed absently, looking up from a crack in the asphalt where a flowering weed poked its sunny, hopeful little face through the heat-warmed surface.

"You won't forgive yourself. If you're standing out here staring into space and…and then you're too late. You'd never forgive yourself."

"Maybe we're already too late," she blurted, following this terrible confession with a strange kind of choking hiccup. She swallowed the strangled sound back down, stuffing it inside along with her confused, shredded feelings, her hand covering her mouth just to be safe; to hold it all together.

Ryan appeared by her side immediately, while Esposito stood observing her from the other side of the car, a worried frown on his face.

"Let's go find out," Ryan said quietly, taking her arm until she began to walk towards the E.R. entrance without the aid of any help.

* * *

Once inside, the boys took charge, eliciting information from the reception desk with badges flashed, while Kate loitered a couple of feet behind, studying the tasteful art on the walls as she considered her chances of getting away if she bolted.

"First floor. You comin', Beckett?" asked Esposito, jerking his head towards a large bank of elevators.

She put one foot in front of the other, no other way to do this. She didn't want to go up there, and yet how could she not? This man had been by her side, serving as her partner for free these last couple of years, putting himself in harm's way right along with her. Was she too much of a coward to do the same for him now – to risk the emotional impact if she really was too late or if the news wasn't good?

The steel doors slid closed with a soundless finality that had her believing they might exit into some other space and time, instead of out into the hospital's glacial white corridor full of I.C.U. rooms, each individual glass box lined up like ice cubes in a tray.

"Castle, Richard. Number four," said Ryan, searching the numbering system that was indicated on the board behind the nurses' station.

"Sir, can I help you gentleman?" asked a helpful looking young nurse dressed in crisp blue scrubs.

Her eyes wandered to Kate, who was lingering apart from her team once more, looking in through the window of the first private room located right opposite the desk. She wore an expression of grieving horror on her face.

"Is _she_ okay?" the nurse asked Esposito, pointing with a pen towards Kate's tensed up figure, her slender fingers now touching the glass.

Espo glanced in her direction and then turned back to focus his attention on the nurse. "Uh…yeah. Been a long night. We're homicide detectives from Manhattan, here to see Richard Castle."

The nurse nodded in a way that said she might have been expecting them. "Mr. Castle is still under sedation and his breathing is being regulated by a ventilator. We've been trying to get in touch with his next of kin. Do you have any idea how we might—"

"Kate!" called Ryan. "Hey, Kate. Castle say anything to you about where Martha and Alexis were headed this summer?"

Kate dragged her prettified gaze away from the supine stranger in the glassed-off room in front of her to make a stab at answering Ryan's question.

"He…uh—" She rubbed at her forehead and squeezed her eyes tightly shut, trying to empty her head of the loud, roaring sound that filled it so completely. She counted to five, pausing for a quiet second to enable her to think clearly enough to answer. "Paris, I think. Yes, they were going to Paris together, Alexis and Martha. I think there was maybe a stop in London on the way back. But I don't recall any actual dates. Does that makes sense?" she asked Ryan, only to be met with an unhelpful blank stare and a shrug.

"He didn't really share that stuff with us, Beckett."

"You_ sure_ it was Paris?" pushed Esposito.

"Eh…if I may?" interrupted the nurse, leaning forward in her chair. "That might make sense. We found an airplane ticket in Mr. Castle's jacket. Seems he was due to fly to Charles de Gaulle later tonight. We had to look through his things to try to find contact information," she explained, lest these cops wonder what the hospital staff were doing rifling through a patient's pockets. "His phone wasn't on his…his…uh…body when they brought him in," she added, mainly addressing her comments to Kate, until the female detective's face paled and she turned back to Esposito. "Highway Patrol ran it over to us later."

"Where'd they recover it?" asked Ryan.

"On scene. Twenty yards away from the car…by the roadside, I believe," the nurse confirmed, wishing she'd never started this discussion. "It doesn't seem to be working…the impact or the rain…I'm not sure. All I know is we couldn't turn it on."

"Can we see him?" asked Ryan, edging closer to Kate again in case she dropped to the floor, so violent was the pallor of her skin.

"Let me call the doctor. He can fill you in on Mr. Castle's condition. Explain protocol and the like," she offered eagerly, keen to be rid of responsibility for these obviously distraught visitors.

Esposito leaned over the edge of the nurses' station, his voice trained low when he spoke. "I'm all for protocol, Miss…" He read her name badge. "Miss Alvarez. But see, this is Mr. Castle's partner right here, and she needs to see him now."

"I understand, but—"

"Javi, it's fine," interrupted Kate, shaking her head at him. "Let the nurse do her job. We'll wait over there," Kate told Miss Alvarez, indicating a line of mint green, pleather-covered chairs resting against the wall.

* * *

Like Ken, Barbie and G.I. Joe lodged inside a dollhouse made for much tinier figures, they made the I.C.U. reception area look untidy. Three tall adults with their upright stature, their confident stance and their worked-on physiques; they certainly made an impression when the on-call doctor finally appeared in front of them.

"I'm Dr. Alan Berman. I've been looking after Mr. Castle since he was brought in late last night. I believe one of you is his partner?"

"Kate," Ryan said quietly, putting a hand in the small of her back to propel her forward.

Kate's eyelashes flickered, her lips a strange, bloodless shade of lilac that matched the smudge beneath each eye, when she held out her hand to accept the man's handshake.

"Detective Kate Beckett."

The doctor's face swarmed with confusion before he spoke again. "Are you…I mean, do you _live_ with Mr. Castle? I…the information in his wallet wasn't quite clear and the young woman who was travelling with—"

"We worked together. He was my partner. NYPD," Kate added, flashing the gold shield at her hip, trying to keep it together when all she could think about was Gina being dead, laid out on the highway like road kill in the rain.

"Right," the doctor nodded. "No personal relationship then. So...we're still looking for next of kin?" he confirmed, more to himself than anyone else.

Kate's face flooded with color for the first time since Ryan could remember. "They're…they're very close, doctor. You can tell Kate…I mean, Castle would want her to know…everything."

"I'm afraid I have to follow hospital protocol, detective. So, unless Mr. Castle made one of you his next of kin—"

"We think his mother and daughter are in Paris right now," Ryan tried, in an effort to circumvent rules that seemed crazy in this case.

"You think?"

"We have strong reason to believe that was their plan. Yes."

"And…are there no other relatives who can step in until we can locate and contact them?"

"Doctor, Kate's his partner. Do you have _any_ idea what that means?" challenged Esposito.

"As I said, I understand, but—"

"The forms," whispered Kate, drawing everyone's attention.

"Hmm? What'd you say?" asked Esposito.

"Those endless forms he filled out when he started shadowing me. Remember? There's some clause or provision in there covering injuries on the job. I think it permitted—"

"Was Mr. Castle on the job when the crash occurred?" asked the doctor, seeming to know the answer already, but prepared to play ball if they could give him a little legal comfort. "If you can get me a faxed copy of that form then—"

"Done," said Ryan, immediately walking out to the elevators to make a call.

* * *

The doctor seemed to warm up a little after that, once he was assured that the requisite paperwork was on it way over, signed by his patient's fair hand.

"Visitors one at a time, I'm afraid. At least while he's still on the ventilator. We're keeping him in a medical induced coma for now so that—"

"Coma?" asked Kate, her mouth drying up around the terrible word.

"Yes. An induced coma is the best way for us to manage any swelling on his brain following the impact. Give his body a chance to heal, if you will. Imagine he's taking a really long nap," the doctor said brightly, momentarily forgetting to whom he was speaking, treating these hardened adults who dealt with violent death everyday like witless children.

"Not that hard to imagine," muttered Esposito, earning a glare from Kate.

"The surgery on his arm went well. It was a complicated fracture involving both the radius _and_ the ulna...that's the two bones that form the forearm. Quite common in road traffic accidents. He required operative treatment…some internal fixation to stabilize the break."

"Will…will his arm be okay?" asked Kate, staring at the splinted, bandaged limb resting on top of the tightly tucked sheet like a small Egyptian mummy.

"Arterial blood supply was uncompromised. Once the swelling has subsided, he'll be fitted with a functional brace. He should need that for around...oh...four to six weeks. No reason he shouldn't regain full use of his arm after a period of recovery and some physical therapy."

Kate listened to the doctor with an increasingly sinking heart. She loved Castle's forearms: the way he rolled up his sleeves when they were working so that all that perfect, tan, muscular flesh was on display. She hadn't even laid a finger on him, aside from the odd accidental brush when he handed her her coat or a file or their bodies bumped up against one another as they walked down a crowded street.

He loved to fidget too, always fiddling with his phone, scribbling notes, never still for more than a few seconds at a time. With his arm out of action like this…

She shook her head. Castle had far bigger problems than a badly broken arm. He had a potential brain bleed and he was in a coma for God's sake, she chided herself. The anger she has felt in the car churned up in her again, like a wave disturbing the sand underwater as it rolled overhead and then pounded the shore.

* * *

She waited until the doctor left them alone outside Castle's room and then she walked closer to the window. "Look at him," she hissed, tears rising to clog her throat. "Just look at him. How could this _happen?_" she demanded, thumping the glass with her fist.

Esposito pulled her back before she could do any actual damage to herself or the window. "Beckett, accidents happen all the time. Just ask Highway Patrol when they get here. Those guys are scraping people up off the road all hours of the day and night."

"Not helping, Javi," she snapped, turning her back on the observation window.

"Right. Sorry."

She stood with her arms folded across her chest for a long time, letting feelings come and go, allowing her head to fill up with all the things she feared and yearned for most: a chance to tell Castle she was sorry, to let him know how much she valued him, to find a way to give him the truth about so many things. Then she pulled the plug on these thoughts and she turned to face her two friends.

"We need to get in contact with Martha and Alexis. Use any means. Ryan, call the precinct. Explain the situation to Montgomery. He has friends in Homeland Security. They should be able to track them down. Meanwhile, keep trying Martha's cell. The sooner we get them back here the better. Preferably before they wake him up."

"What are you going to do?" asked Esposito, watching as a look of fear passed across Kate's face.

"I…I'm going to…" She glanced over her shoulder at the sleeping form of her partner, his chest rising and falling at the whim of the machine keeping him alive, and then she looked away again. "Actually, I'm going to go take a walk is what I'm going to do."

With a final guilty, fleeting look into the writer's I.C.U. room, Kate cut and run before the boys could stop her or attempt to talk her out of it.

* * *

She paced the small garden at the rear of the hospital, walking through the artificial maze of low shrubbery, past each of the occupied benches so that the patients and visitors who sat there, chatting in low, earnest tones, could have privacy for their confidential, often life-changing, conversations.

After ten minutes that could easily have been ten seconds or ten hours, Esposito appeared around the corner.

"Hey," he nodded gruffly, coming over to join her on a bench that had come free. "How you holding up?"

Kate glanced back towards the hospital. "Better than him."

There was a short pause while they got comfortable with one another in this strange and disorientating situation, and then Esposito spoke again.

"Beckett, what's going on with you?"

She tried to act dumb, to deflect, but the words needed for that trick were buried somewhere even deeper than the truth, which shimmered on the surface like the sunlight, begging to be noticed.

She balled up her fists in her lap and bit her lip hard. "Before…before all of this…I was just…I was on the verge of figuring things out. I ended things with Tom so that I could go with him to the Hamptons. He'd been badgering me about it for days and I kept putting him off. But then Gina showed up before I could say anything. Javi, this is such a mess."

None of what Kate had just revealed was a surprise to Esposito. They had all guessed as much even before peering through the blinds as she attempted to lay her heart on the line for the writer. Their peeping Tom routine had proved cruel and insensitive. Esposito attempted to make up for it now.

"It's only a mess because you know all of it. He doesn't."

Kate looked up from the ground suddenly, the clarity in her eyes hinting that she'd come onto a plan. "You're right. No need to complicate his life further when he comes round. I mean it's not like he's coming back to work with us anymore. We stay until Martha and Alexis get back and then…he never has to see me again."

Esposito shot her a crazy look. "_What?_ How'd you figure that screwball theory?"

"He was with _Gina_. He _chose_ Gina, Espo."

"No, Beckett, that wasn't no choice. You put yourself out of the running. Gina, God rest her soul, was his…his back-up plan. That's all. Guy can't spend more than five minutes by himself. Starts looking in the mirror for company if you leave him alone too long. Gina was just a stand-in. She was a stand-in for _you._"

Kate shook her head, unwilling to believe Esposito's version of events. "No. You're wrong, Javi. How do you even know that?"

"Take the crash."

"What about it?"

"Cops interviewed witnesses, Beckett. L.I.E. was a mess last night, a nightmare. Heavy rain, diesel spill…"

"Yeah, I heard," she shrugged. "Anyone could have crashed in those conditions."

"Yeah, only no one else did. No one except _Castle._"

Kate frowned. "Javi, he's a really safe driver. I know I don't let him behind the wheel very often, but he is. And that car is practically brand new. He had it packed with safety features precisely for driving Alexis out to the Hamptons."

"Exactly. That crash didn't happen because of the rain or some diesel spill neither."

"So…what are you saying? If Castle's driving and the car weren't to blame…whose fault was it?"

"Two eye witnesses, from the car travelling alongside and the car immediately behind, both reported the passenger of the silver Mercedes arguing and appearing to strike the driver of the silver sedan. And then right before Castle's vehicle spun out of control, the female passenger grabbed for the wheel."

"Son of a—" cursed Kate, suddenly standing, running a hand through her hair as she began to pace, her head throbbing from the sudden drop in blood pressure and the heat of the sun.

Esposito watched her work up a head of steam, wearing a rut in the gravel in front of the bench until she spun back to face him. "Why didn't you tell me this sooner? And why would she _do_ that?"

He shrugged, pragmatic as ever, ignoring her first question to answer the second. "Lover's quarrel maybe? Fight over his writing, alimony, where to go for dinner? Your guess is as good as mine, Beckett."

Of course "lover's quarrel" was the only outcome Kate's brain was prepared to allow. That they could have been arguing about _Nikki Heat_ was too uncomfortable, too unconscionable to even think about. So although the idea that they were so passionately involved they could be fighting like that cut her to the quick, she settled her mind on that painful explanation and prepared to go forward from there.

* * *

Standing in front of the window of the I.C.U. again several minutes later, she watched him alone. "_Why_, Rick?" she muttered under her breath, wondering how it had come to this – Gina dead, Castle in a coma, and her standing outside his room, too afraid to go in and yet too scared to leave.

"There's a chair beside the bed," said the nurse they had met earlier. "You might be more comfortable inside."

"I…I'm not his…" Kate let the words she didn't have go, allowing her stilted silence to speak for her instead.

"Doctor cleared you to sit with him until his family get here," she explained kindly. "You're free to go on in."

"I…I'm fine right here," Kate lied, feeling a wave of toe-curling embarrassment under this young woman's sympathetic, non-judgmental scrutiny. God only knows what she thought Kate was doing there, pining outside this guy's door and yet unable to bring herself to cross the threshold and go inside.

"There's a lot of research to suggest that coma patients, even those who've been put under artificially like Mr. Castle, respond well to the voices of people they—" The gap where the natural filler "love" would ordinarily sit lasted a mere stuttered heartbeat, and then the nurse recovered. "People they know well. You would be helping him if you sat in and talked to him."

"I wouldn't know what to say."

But the nurse persisted. "You can read to him, tell him about your day, how you're feeling. Doesn't really matter what you say."

"I feel so angry," confessed Kate, swiping at a surprise tear and then sniffing loudly as her nose began to run.

The nurse gave her a tissue and then laid a hand on the middle of her back, in between her shoulder blades. Kate immediately felt her whole body sag into the woman's gentle touch.

"You care about him. Anyone can see that."

Kate turned to look at Nurse Alvarez sharply, but the nurse's gaze was entirely focused on Castle's bed.

"I'm angry with him…and with myself. I wouldn't be doing him any good…just sitting by his bedside. I'm sorry. I know that sounds pathetic or…or selfish. I just don't know what else to say."

"I have a copy of the _Long Island Herald_ behind the desk. How about I give you that? You can tell him the local gossip, read his horoscope. I'll get an orderly to bring you a cup of tea…" she offered, giving Kate a sympathetic smile. "Might do you both good, and even if it doesn't…certainly won't do any harm."

The nurse left Kate by herself for a minute while she went about arranging things for the detective's bedside vigil. She continued to stare at her partner through the glass, her fingers pressed to the area perspective offered as his face, willing with everything she had for him to get better. She let sixty seconds go by, counting her own heartbeats one-by-one, and then she grasped the silver handle on the door and let herself inside.

_TBC..._


	3. Chapter 3 - Bargaining

_A/N: I recommend you listen to this song by John Fullbright, if you don't know it already. "When You're Here" - it's so lovely, and the words of the chorus seem pretty apt for this chapter of the story._

* * *

_Don't I feel like something when you're here  
Don't I feel my lungs losing air  
Don't I feel like I can show you  
I'm the one you can go to  
When you need another heartbeat near  
Don't I feel like something when you're here._

_**John Fullbright**__ – When You're Here_

* * *

**_Chapter 3 – Bargaining_**

She stood by his bed just staring. Several long, quiet moments of watching, waiting, while she held her breath and stared, mostly at his face: at the dark stubble coating his jaw where his skin appeared to have been roughly sketched in with charcoal, and then at the machine: at the beeping, the whooshing, the endless heart tracing, jagged and colorful as a child's Crayola scribble.

Time passed, pins and needles tingled in her feet, and so finally, she eased her aching body down into the armchair beside his bed. A flatulent puff of air accompanied her arrival at rest, something close to the sound of a whoopee cushion issuing from the hateful, plastic covered foam pad. She was alone - except for Castle's sleeping form - and still she blushed to hear the rude noise that cushion made.

"If he lives I'll—"

The bargaining began that way, in increments: painful, uncomfortable little forays into deal making with God, the universe, with whomever she felt she could trust to pull this one off. She'd have done a deal with the devil right then and there if only she could have had an assurance that deal would have saved Castle's life.

Magic. He believed in magic. She had no idea if he carried some other faith inside him, some God he prayed to in the dark of night, when Alexis was sick or his imagination failed him and writer's block threatened to take his life's purpose away. She had no idea if he maintained some belief system so personal they had never discussed it. But he was a pretty open book, as people go, so she reasoned the subject would have come up at some point, given their frequent brushes with death, and it hadn't, so…

But then she wasn't so sure. She bit her lip and clasped her hands, attempting to remember a prayer of old, any words that might stand in for the ones she couldn't find herself. They knew so little about one another in so many ways. Any faith she had left over from childhood had vanished the day her mother died. Because what God would allow a woman like Johanna Beckett to be taken from the world so soon – a woman of good heart and courage who lived to help those less fortunate - when murderers, rapists, terrorists and all manner of unspeakable evil was allowed to carry on, its perpetrators continuing to live free, breathing the air, making plans and carrying out increasingly more evil acts on repeat?

But this was Castle - kind, blameless, earnest, hardworking, loyal, loveable Castle. She'd try anything at this point. She would make the words come.

_Our father, who art in Heaven…_

* * *

Nurse Alvarez appeared with the newspaper and a cup of tea, as promised. Kate startled when she materialized by her side, lightly touching her shoulder to get her attention before handing her the tea and placing the reading material on the edge of Castle's bed.

The silent prayer died on her lips.

"How're you doing?" she asked Kate, watching her take a grateful sip of hot liquid.

"I'm still here," she shrugged, giving the nurse a wan smile. "Thanks…for this," she smiled more bravely, indicating the mug.

The nurse nodded, patted her shoulder once more, and prepared to leave the room.

"Nurse Alvarez?" Kate called out just as the young woman reached the door.

"Yes?"

"Will— He'll be okay?" she asked, voicing the one question that had haunted her since Esposito had taken that dreadful phone call late last night from Nassau County Highway Patrol, informing them about the crash.

"He's stable for now. His vital signs were pretty good when he was brought in last night. But he took a really bad knock to the head on impact. He was unconscious when the EMT's arrived on scene. That's why he's been put under sedation until any swelling on his brain can be assessed. But there's every reason to be hopeful. Mr. Castle is fit and healthy otherwise. He's in good shape, has no underlying medical conditions. The doctor can tell you more, if you want me to call him?" she offered, indicating the corridor with a jerk of her thumb.

"No. No, that won't be necessary," Kate hustled to say. "And thank you…for explaining."

"Not a problem. Anything else you want to know, just ask. I know those questions are the scariest. I see people struggle everyday with the self same issues you're facing right now. So…don't be afraid to speak up."

* * *

After the nurse left the room, Kate sat back in the armchair cradling the mug of tea to her chest. Though summer and hot outside, she felt as chilled as she had back at the precinct, possibly as a result of some residual shock or possibly due to exhaustion. So she sipped and she watched and she waited. The rhythm of Castle's ventilator began to regulate her own breathing and heart rate, resetting her anxious, speeding pulse and short, shallow breaths to fall in line with his slower, calmer, more peaceful rhythm.

When her tea was done she set the mug aside and reached for the local newspaper. I quick scan told her it was no page-turner, but then nothing ventured, nothing gained.

She glanced up at the bed, at Castle's slack lips parted around the intubation tube, a slash of tape holding it in place, and her fingers tingled. But the urge to touch him came accompanied by a fear of over-stepping boundaries, boundaries held even more firmly in place by knowledge of the personal loss he had just suffered, one she could barely bring herself to dwell upon.

And so she read to him. She let her voice repeat mundane tales of local council elections, pretty crimes reported in the folksy, homespun police blotter cutely named "Cop's Corner", the breathless, gossipy coverage of recent realty deals, where record property prices were smashed once again, along with news of a charity fundraiser held by a local choral society to help send a group of underprivileged kids on a trip to Israel. These inconsequential tales went on and on, and her voice found its own strength in the reading of the words, no matter that they had zero bearing on _her_ life or the life of the man lying asleep in front of her. They were a tool, these stories, a tool to help her sit here beside him, broken and alone, after watching him depart with another woman just a few short weeks ago. His departure then had left her bereft, angry and determined to move on with her life. Yet, here she was now: desperate to have her old life back_, their_ old life, even if he never looked at her in the same way again – with that desirous, wanting, serious look in his eyes; the look that said he thought they could _be_ something, something long-lasting, something good, maybe even something brilliant.

Eventually, she folded the paper and dropped it to the floor by her chair, sinking back into the sticky warmth of the pleather cushion. She crossed her arms over her chest and closed her eyes for a brief second, allowing the warmth of the room to soothe her. When she opened her eyes again, she was ready to deliver words of an altogether different kind, or something close to ready if you went easy on her cloudy, stilted presentation.

"I let you out of my sight for a couple of weeks and look what happens," she said, allowing some levity to infuse her tone. But with no audience to provide feedback, the tease fell flat and she cleared her throat, attempting to dislodge her own embarrassment as she searched for something more meaningful to say.

"Espo and Ryan are outside. At least they were last time I was out there. I got the Golden Ticket. Partner privileges. At least until we can locate Alexis and your mom. So…yeah, all that paperwork you filled out right before you started following me? Hit the jackpot there, Castle. Cause you get me…and my painful wittering. Your lucky day."

She dropped her head into her hands and kicked off her shoes so that she could curl up into a ball on the chair, feeling like an utter failure. He couldn't hear her, and even if he could, what difference would it make? Gina was dead – the woman he left town with. A woman he was married to once-upon-a-not-so-long ago. A woman he had actually lived with, slept with, someone he'd known through enough good times that they were able to ignore the bad times successfully enough to reconnect this summer. So what was she doing now? What was any of this about beyond filling time, keeping him company and allowing her to get some stuff off her chest without any of it hitting home?

"I'm sorry, Castle. I'm so bad at this," she apologized quietly, brushing away a tear and then lifting her head to prop her chin on her knees so that she could keep looking at him while she spoke.

"I know this is too late…_far_ too late, but I wanted you to know that the last time we spoke I was going accepting your invitation to the Hamptons. You'll never know how much I regret getting to that point too late. I messed you around and I messed Tom around. I couldn't even tell you why right now, except maybe I was scared."

There was a light tap on the door and she practically levitated out of her seat, nerves shot to hell by each new, unsettling development since this whole nightmare began.

When she turned around, Ryan's pale moon of a face was staring at her through the archer's slit of wired glass. She waved him in, waiting until he stood beside her chair to ask him what he wanted.

"Officers from Highway Patrol are here, Beckett. They'd like a word."

Kate frowned. "A word? With whom? He's still under," she said, glancing at her partner just to make sure.

"No, with you."

"Me? Why do they need to speak to me?"

"Professional courtesy, I imagine. They've brought in some personal effects…from the crash site…things they recovered from Castle's car…the roadway…I—"

One look told her exactly what he wasn't saying. "Gina's things?"

He nodded.

"Kevin, they're for her next of kin. I…I can't—" She shook her head, her face crumpling.

"What should I tell them?"

Kate dropped her gaze, and when she looked down at her hand she was holding onto Castle's on top of the crisp, tightly tucked white sheet. His cool, slightly dry, limp fingers were secured inside hers. She had no idea when she'd even reached out to him, none at all, and that scared her even more. She took a breath, wet her lips, and then she gave her partner's hand a squeeze, before letting go.

"Give me a minute…I'll be there," she replied, standing and then turning back to look at Castle, helpless in his hospital bed.

"I'm doing this for you, okay?" she told the sleeping writer. "You _owe_ me. Actually, scratch that. After everything you've done for me these last two years, you don't owe me anything. Just…please wake up so that you can annoy me again, piss me off, pull my pigtails, Rick…whatever you want. But don't you dare leave me, you hear? Don't you dare…"

She was hoarse and tearful by the time she finished, and nowhere close to being ready to face the two cops waiting outside in the hall. But she had no choice, so she squared her shoulders, took another deep breath and prepared to leave the room.

"I'll be back," she whispered over her shoulder. "Stay right where you are," she added, smiling to herself as she imagined how Castle would respond to a stupid statement like that if he were awake.

No chance in hell he'd stay in that bed if he had any other option, just as he never stayed in the car if she asked or listened to any of her other serious requests intended to keep him safe. She'd kill for the chance to kick his ass right now, to tell him off and have him smirk that sexy smirk in her direction.

She'd take their worst day on repeat right now, if it meant he was breathing for himself, giving her grief and able to stand on his own two feet.

If only.

* * *

The matching set of uniformed patrolmen stood chatting to Esposito and Ryan over by the nurses' station, their hats dangling from their meaty fingertips. Again the bright, ultraclean, ultramodern ICU reception was made to look cluttered and untidy with this law enforcement convention choking up its circulation space.

"Officers…" Kate hastily read their badges, "Gately and Holt. I'm Detective Kate Beckett, Mr. Castle's partner. Please to meet you," she said, shaking hands with each of them in turn. "I understand you wanted to see me. How can I be of assistance?"

The older cop, Gately, aged about thirty-five and carrying a considerable gut already, seemed to be in charge. "We're investigating the circumstances surrounding the crash out on Interstate 495 last night that injured your partner and resulted in the death on scene of Miss Griffin."

Kate nodded solemnly. "As I'm sure my colleagues explained, I was in Manhattan working a homicide case until late. So…I'm not sure how you think I can be of any help?" she frowned.

"The road conditions were pretty bad on the I-495 between the hours of nine and midnight, what with it being so wet. But we still can't find a direct reason for Mr. Castle's vehicle to have crashed in the manner it did. Tires are practically new…actually so's the whole darned car."

"Hydroplane maybe?" suggested Esposito, thinking figuring out the cause of the crash was so not their job.

"Not enough lying water on that section of road and no indication of sharp breaking either."

"Traffic ahead was flowing freely," added Officer Holt. "Mr. Castle's car just seemed to veer out of lane, hit the median and then spin, striking the guardrail on the other side of the road."

"He was lucky the vehicles around them were mostly able to stop in time."

"Was anyone else injured?" asked Kate, digging her nails into the palm of her hand.

"One or two minor whiplash injures, mostly in the following vehicles as a result of the drivers having to slam on their brakes. Mr. Castle's Mercedes struck a Camry heading in the same direction. But the damage was minor and all three occupants were unharmed."

"Just a little shook up," added Holt.

At this point Officer Gately produced a clear plastic evidence baggie he'd been dangling behind his back.

"We recovered and secured some valuables from inside Mr. Castle's car at the scene, right before the wrecker came to tow it away. We thought his next of kin might be here by now, but…"

The cop's words became inaudible to Kate as she stared at the bag, eyes drawn to the contents like a rubbernecker to a road traffic accident, and oh, the irony of that. Castle's brown leather wallet, the keys to his loft and a cell phone were clearly identifiable through the thick plastic. The other item that caught Kate's eye was a ring. The diamond was pretty significant, the platinum band substantial enough to carry such a sizable stone. It shone like a beacon through the translucent skin of the bag, tearing another hole in Kate's heart.

"Detective?" prompted the older cop, startling her hearing back into functioning.

"I…I'm sorry. Zoned out there for a second. You were saying?"

Her eyes remained fixed on the ring for several more seconds until the bag moved towards her and she took a reflexive step back, raising her hands as she did so.

"I think maybe you should hold onto those until Mr. Castle comes round," she said, chewing on the inside of the cheek.

"We wondered if you could identify the items. The wallet and the keys are clearly Mr. Castle's from the I.D. inside and the keychain. But the phone and the ring…"

"The phone isn't his," said Kate, digging her nails harder into her palm as her gaze was once more forced downward to look at the ring.

"And the ring?"

"Well, it's pretty clear it belongs to a woman, I'd have thought," Kate snapped.

"We found it rolling round the passenger footwell. Wondered if you could say for certain that it belonged to Miss Griffin."

Kate glanced at Ryan and Esposito, the sympathy on their faces heartbreaking to see. Then she shook her head. "I didn't know Gina well enough. We only met a couple of times. She and Mr. Castle used to be married, so…it's possible that's her engagement ring. But I can't say for sure."

"You said they _used_ to be married, as in—"

"They divorced several years ago," Kate explained patiently, her clipped, professional tone the result of mastery over her emotions she barely felt capable of.

"And do you have any idea what they were doing on the Manhattan-bound side of L.I.E. last night?"

Kate looked at the floor before answering and then she took a deep breath, tired with these pointless questions already. "I was his work colleague, Officer Gately. His partner. As for his private life…I don't know," she shrugged, embarrassed by having to explain all of this. "I last saw him a little over two weeks ago. He and Miss Griffin were headed out to his place in the Hamptons to spend the summer, as far as I was aware. Gina was also his publisher, so…"

"And you believe they had…reconciled before going on this trip?"

Kate bit her wavering lip, ultra aware of the boys' eyes upon her still. "Seemed that way. As to why they were headed back to the city last night…your guess is as good as mine."

"Why the interest in Mr. Castle's private life?" asked Esposito, stepping in to finally take the heat off Kate.

"The eyewitness reports I mentioned on the phone had Miss Griffin arguing with Mr. Castle while he was driving, and then attempting to take control of the wheel right before the crash. We're just looking for some answers, same as you would. This apparent fight seems like it could be a major contributing factor to the accident. That's all."

"I'm sorry we can't be of more help," said Kate, about ready to walk away, exhaustion tugging at her again, the details of Castle's crash too unsettling and painful to listen to.

"Right. Well, if you think of anything else, here's my card," said Gately, handing over a Nassau Country business card.

"And if you're happy to sign for these, we'd appreciate being able to leave them with you," explained Holt, pulling a voucher receipt from his pocket for Kate to sign.

* * *

She held onto the plastic personal effects bag with the very tips of her fingers once the paperwork was complete, treating the contents as radioactive. Castle would be keen to get his wallet and keys back, she knew that. He could deal with the cell phone and ring, which most likely belonged to Gina, once he came round.

"Keep these under lock and key until Castle can deal with them," Kate instructed Ryan, handing off the plastic bag of belongings to the Irish detective as soon as the two cops left.

Kate turned to head back to Castle's room and then she hesitated, not understanding her place in all of this anymore, unsure why she was here or if she belonged by his bedside anymore, given the ring Ryan was holding in his hand.

"I…any joy with Martha, Alexis or the consulate yet?"

"Still trying," Esposito confirmed. "Mostly likely their phones aren't setup to roam in Europe. But we're tracking down their hotel reservation. Shouldn't be long now."

"Why don't you use Castle's keys?" Kate suggested. "Go to the loft, check his office to see if there's any itinerary information lying around…maybe look on the kitchen counter, refrigerator…you know the drill. Look for anything that might tell us where Martha and Alexis are staying. Also, can you get his cell phone from the nursing staff and take it back to tech. Get them to dry it out or whatever, see if they can't get it up and running again. If he was headed out to Paris tonight to meet them, they must be worried if they haven't heard from him, and they'll be even more worried if he doesn't show up when they're expecting him to."

"Good call," agreed Ryan, bouncing on his toes, ready to head back to the city to do some real detective work.

"What're you gonna do?" asked Esposito, watching Kate's strained face carefully.

She shrugged her shoulders. "Stay here, I guess. Wait for a medical update, keep him company until his mom and daughter can get back."

"You gonna be okay here by yourself?"

Kate nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Sure. Update Montgomery for me, would you? And guys?" she called as they turned to leave. "Keep this on the down low, would you? I don't want the press getting wind of this and turning it into a circus."

"Yeah, sure thing. You want us to bring you anything?"

"There's a change of clothes in my locker. Maybe a tooth brush…just the usual. But only if you're coming back. I can get a ride or—"

"Beckett, we'll be back," assured Ryan, giving her arm a squeeze.

"Yeah, man. We're a team. You, me, Ryan and Castle."

"Great. Thanks. I appreciate it," she replied on autopilot, wondering just how much of a truth that was anymore.

"And…you know," said Esposito, leaning in so he could talk to her quietly, "don't read too much into this whole argument and ring thing. Could be somethin' an' nothin'."

Kate nodded to compensate for the lump in her throat at being coddled by her 'brothers'.

"Now, go tell our boy we were asking for him," Esposito added in a louder voice, backing away.

* * *

When Kate sat back down in the chair by Castle's bed, she felt aged by all that had transpired in the last twelve hours.

"What was going on with you?" she whispered, reaching forward to run her finger tentatively down Castle's forearm. "Hmm? What _happened_ to you?" she asked, grasping his hand and giving it a squeeze.

She jumped when the doctor appeared with Nurse Alvarez, standing up so suddenly she had to grip the back of the armchair for balance as her head swam.

"Detective Beckett, we've been monitoring Mr. Castle's vitals while he's been on the ventilator. We're going to take him for a CT scan now, and if all looks good, we'll begin bringing him out of the coma. You can wait in here if you like while he's down in radiology. The scan should only take around ten minutes. Depending on what we find, he should be back up inside a half hour."

"Depending on what you find? What…what does that—"

"If further investigation is indicated by the results of the CT, he'll be next in line for an MRI. But Nurse Alvarez can keep you informed of progress if there's going to be any delay in him coming back up to ICU."

Kate nodded, trying to remain stoic, while her stomach churned and her heart hammered in her chest.

A couple of orderlies appeared to wheel Castle's bed out of the room and down to the basement radiology department. Kate hastily stepped towards the bed before they could unlock the wheels, leaned over the side and planted a soft, brief kiss on his far-too-pale, too-cool cheek.

"Be good," she whispered, ruffling his hair with the tips of her fingers. "I'll be waiting," she murmured, before stepping out of the way to allow the men to do their job.

Alone in his empty hospital room, the space Castle and his bed had recently occupied now a great, yawning hole in the earth, she walked to the window, stared out at the view for the first time since she got here, and for only the second real time that day, she let the tears come, splashing down her cheeks without limit or restraint.

_TBC..._


	4. Chapter 4 - Depression

_A/N: A cheery wee number for the weekend. My apologies. But we are working through the five stages of grief, so... ;)_

* * *

_"Change_

_Moments that rearrange_

_And the only fight that remains_

_Is called keeping hope alive"_

_**John Fullbright** – Keeping Hope Alive_

* * *

**_Chapter 4 – Depression_**

The sun had reached its daytime peak by the time Castle's hospital bed was wheeled back into the ICU room. Kate was standing over by the window counting cars in the parking lot, dividing them up into colors, ranking the colors from most popular to least based on the number of each present. The task fitted her numb, over-whelmed brain, and she was about to move onto make and model when the door opened and a tall, African American man backed his way into the room guiding the wheeled gurney. A second man appeared at the head of the bed, and together the two angled and maneuvered the sleeping patient back into his slot against the wall.

Nurse Alvarez arrived to reconnect the various power supplies and lines needed for Castle's ventilation equipment and for the bed itself to work.

Kate stood with her arms protectively crossed over her chest as she watched the nurse perform these tasks quickly and efficiently. Castle lay in more or less the same position as he had before, although she did notice that his hair was slightly mussed against the pillow and his jaw might have looked a little duskier still - edged as it was in a two-day old growth – though the change might well have been all in her imagination or equally a simple trick of the light. Either way, her mood was dark and so the world looked darker, her partner along with it. Simple and as heartbreaking as that.

She had missed him during the forty-five minutes he had been gone; a longer time than promised by his doctor, but then wasn't that always the way with medical exams and things of that nature. Her spirits had plummeted without Castle's presence in the room: that sweet, familiar face to focus on, to drive her to hope. Like a temperature drop indoors without the aid of the sun falling in trapezium, rhombus and parallelogram shapes as it performed its ceaseless daily parade across the floor, her state of mind had turned inwards. This lowering of mood had occurred despite the fact that Castle's normal ability to converse or even actively listen had been removed by the fact of his coma. She missed him, she was making peace with the ugly rent in their recent history, the Gina-shaped fissure caused by his shock departure, but she still had no idea where they stood.

For now, she stood alone.

* * *

"There. All done," said the nurse, smoothing and tightening the crisp white sheet that was tucked across Castle's chest.

"Did he…_pass?_" frowned Kate, unsure of the terminology that should accompany the performance of a CT scan.

"Doctor Berman's due in any minute to have a word with you."

Kate nodded, uncomfortable being the one this doctor and his care team felt they were answerable to. Sure, Castle had been her work partner. But where were they now? He chose Gina, and now Gina was dead after some passionate argument…and then there was the diamond ring. Even if the legal papers Castle had signed stated that next of kin protocol could be waved in the face of some on-the-job emergency, Kate felt her rights to be morally shaky. She knew he wasn't working with the NYPD at the time of the crash, they all did, and yet the provision offered by these ass-covering legalities were sufficient to put her in the hot seat. At least until his family could make it back from France to take over.

But the single factor that bothered Kate more than any other was that she had no idea if Castle had intended coming back to work with her and her team at all. He left with a vague echo of her own _"See you in the Fall?"_ query, and then he had proceeded to go his own way without a backward glance, no text, email or phone call for the next two weeks. How long that would have remained the status quo had this accident not occurred? That was another mystery she'd have to leave unsolved for now, and Kate Beckett detested unsolved mysteries more than anything else.

"You look exhausted," said the gentle nurse, pulling Kate out of her own head with her soothing voice. "Can I get you something to eat? A sandwich maybe?"

Kate smiled in gratitude, feeling so unworthy of these peoples' kindness and consideration. I'm a coward, she thought to herself. I care for the man in that bed, I care so much for him, and yet I was too scared to admit it to myself, let alone to him, until his life was in jeopardy and he was unable to hear or act upon my confession. Please don't be nice to me, I don't think I can take much more, she begged on the inside, biting her lip before managing to force out a few reasonable sounding words.

"I can go to the coffee shop after the doctor gets here. I'm sure you have a lot to do. I'll be fine."

The nurse looked on the point of protesting when a sharp rap on the door announced the arrival of the doctor. Speak of the devil, thought Kate, wishing for an angel instead.

"So…I have good news," he said, plowing right in. "CT scan showed no swelling on the brain, which means we won't be needing to perform an MRI. One of my associates will be along in a minute to begin the process of withdrawing Mr. Castle from the medically induced coma."

"How…how does that work?" asked Kate, her arms banded around her body as she hugged herself tightly, devoid of any other form of support, since she stood here for Castle alone.

"We'll begin by withdrawing the barbiturate that has been controlling Mr. Castle's state of unconsciousness. The Pentobarbital was specifically administered to suppress the rate of brain activity. This has the effect of reducing any swelling in the brain tissue, a condition we call intracranial hypertension. There was a realistic expectation that such swelling might have occurred as a result of the head injury he sustained on impact. I'm relieved to say that no longer appears to be the case."

"Will he wake up immediately?" asked Kate, feeling her own anxiety levels suddenly rise. As lonely and depressed as she felt when faced with a supine, unresponsive Castle, she felt equally unprepared to deal with a live, fully alert Castle, despite having spent the last few hours wishing and praying for exactly that.

"It might take some time for the drugs to wash out of his system. He's only been under for a few hours, but we have to administer as powerful a barbiturate as you would require for general anesthesia, so he may seem groggy, confused, perhaps even a little depressed for a while, especially in light of the…situation surrounding the accident."

The doctor chose his words with care, though Kate was in no doubt that he was referring to the death of Gina Griffin. Frankly Castle wasn't the only one who was headed towards depression at the thought of having to face that terrible truth.

"The team will remain on hand to monitor Mr. Castle's breathing, his heart rate, blood pressure and other outputs, such as kidney function for example. Once we've assessed his vitals as stable and an EEG shows his brain function has returned to normal, he'll be moved to an orthopedic ward to be treated for his other injuries."

The doctor waited for Kate to ask any further questions and then he turned away to address Nurse Alvarez, who stood patiently off to one side awaiting further instruction. "Would you call Dr. Gorton, Ramona, and then if you wouldn't mind escorting Detective Beckett outside for a few moments."

And that was that. Without further ado Kate was ushered out of the room and left to her own devices, while the medical team assembled to begin the process of withdrawing Castle from his so-called "barb coma". She lingered for a second or two in front of the observation window to his room, the pads of her fingers steaming foggy semicircles onto the glass while she focused on his pale, slightly bruised face, until the nurse drew the privacy curtain, and her partner was once again lost to her.

* * *

She dug her phone out of her pocket, an urge to talk to someone familiar driving her to make contact with the precinct.

She wandered the area in front of the elevators while she talked, walking to keep in motion, walking to prevent herself from sinking down into a chair in the waiting area and completely losing her grip.

"Hey, Ryan, it's me. You guys make it back okay?" She hugged her arm around her body as she spoke, squeezing tight to bolster her spirits.

"Yeah. No problems this end. How's Castle?"

"Passed the CT scan with flying colors," she announced with pride and a faux-jollity she unearthed from God only knows where. "They've decided he can come out of the coma. I'm outside in reception while they take care of that now."

"That's great news. Hey, Javi…"

There was a pause in the conversation while Ryan relayed the information about Castle's medical condition to Esposito and Captain Montgomery. Kate quashed the celebratory whoops and whistles a little by reminding them that he wasn't out of the woods just yet – he had to be able to breath and function on his own for the danger to be completely over.

"Any news on Martha and Alexis?"

"Nothing so far. We got the number of Castle's travel agent from a notepad in his office. Espo's following up on that now."

"Great. Keep me posted."

"Sure thing. Javi's planning to come out and join you once our shift is over. We should have some answers by then."

"Good. Because I can't help thinking that this isn't one of Castle's novels. They're just regular American tourists. They can't just disappear. Someone must know where they're staying and how to get in touch with them."

* * *

Nurse Alvarez found Kate pacing out in the hallway around thirty minutes later, the young woman's smile the widest Kate has seen yet.

"Good news. Your friend is showing signs of coming round already. The doctors have withdrawn the sedation needed to keep him under. Now we watch his progress, monitor his vitals, and once he's stable and progressing we can remove him from the ventilator."

Kate clasped her hands to her chest in a spontaneous, prayerful expression of relief. She nodded, a little choked. "That's…that's really great. Thank you."

"Hey," said the nurse, getting close enough to squeeze Kate's shoulder, "we're just doing our job. You're the one really helping him through."

Kate looked deeply uncomfortable. "I…I don't know about that," she shrugged, darting a glance at the floor and then more hopefully at the young woman standing in front of her. "You really think it helped? Talking, reading, just…being there?" she asked, hating her own neediness but needing it nonetheless.

Nurse Alvarez nodded. "I'm sure it helped to hear a friendly voice."

Kate nodded again, her hands balled into tight little fists by her side, the excruciating awkwardness she felt washing over her like a sudden, out-of-nowhere wave.

The nurse was jerked out of a temporary trance of her own by the descent of silence between them. "You can go back in if you want. That's what I came out to tell you," she smiled apologetically. "That and how well he's doing."

"Give me a minute and I'll be right in," promised Kate, departing with haste towards the nearest bathroom.

She turned the cold faucet on immediately, dowsed her hot, tight-feeling face with water - so much water that she soaked her bangs where they fell over her forehead - and then she looked up and stared at her own shocked reflection in the mirror.

"You wanted this. You asked…hell, you even _prayed_ for this," she told the pale, bloodless face with the dark, tired eyes looking back at her. "Time to man up, Beckett. Castle needs you."

She would give him time to come round, she would respect his grief, she would fill his time with whatever he required – silence or idle chatter – until his mother and daughter could arrive and take over, and then her job here would be done. She would let him know that his space by her side was open and would remain so if he ever wanted to come back to the Precinct. And if, God forbid, he chose not to, there would be no hard feelings, no big drama, no unrecoverable confessions that might embarrass them both. She would quietly go back to her life and he would be left to grieve alone.

She exited the bathroom with her hair still drying and a plan she only half-heartedly believed in. The weight of her life felt like a shifting, unpredictable beast, something with a mass akin to a vast body of water: pulled by the moon, driven by the wind, forced upward by the contours of the hidden depths below. Gravity tugged inward, while centrifugal forces pushed outward; she was all at sea and feeling quite sick, despite having kept her eyes trained on the horizon throughout.

And then her cell phone rang and she felt the earth tilt on its axis once more.

* * *

"_Martha?_ Martha, where are you?" she asked, her heart beating frantically as soon as the older woman spoke and she recognized that inimitable, cultured, theatrical voice.

The line crackled and then seemed to drop out altogether. But when Kate withdrew her cell phone from her ear the seconds continued to tick by and she knew she was still connected.

"Martha, are you still there?"

"Kate, darling. Finally," came Castle's mother's sigh of relief, frustration and panic. Only Martha Rodgers could pack so much feeling into one single exhalation.

"Martha, where are you? Is Alexis with you?"

"We're in Paris, dear. Did Richard not tell you?" she asked, as if sharing this familial fact with her - and others like it - was a cornerstone of their relationship.

"He…uh…he mentioned something, but I—"

"Darling, that's why I'm calling. You know he was supposed to arrive here tomorrow morning? We've got his room all booked, but I need a flight number to arrange a car from the airport and I can't get through to him on his cell phone and he's not picking up at home either."

"Martha," Kate interjected, attempting to slow the woman down to a crawl so that she could get a word in. "Martha, can you listen to me for a moment?"

The delay on the line was a second or more and it wasn't helping, they were talking over one another.

"Darling, are you—"

Kate put her hand to her forehead, biting her lip to keep from speaking at the same time as Martha yet again.

"Ah, yes, there you are," Martha eventually cut back in. "So…do you know where my son is hiding?"

Kate swallowed hard. "Martha, I want you to take a seat for me, okay?"

"Kate? What is it?" She heard confusion infused with anxiety begin to bleed through in the older woman's voice.

"Just sit down so I can explain. Please?" she begged.

"Explain what? Kate, I don't like this. Do you know where—"

"I know where Rick is, yes. I know where he is," she repeated, so that Martha would hear her when the delay on the line cleared. "Are you sitting down?"

"Please, just tell me. Yes…sitting, now where is he?" she asked plaintively.

"Castle was in a car accident last night. Now he's okay," at least I think he is, she said to herself. "He's in hospital on Long Island."

"What on earth happened?" wailed Martha, her voice rising as high as Kate had ever heard it.

"We're not sure exactly. It happened some time after nine last night. They were coming back from the Hamptons, the weather was terrible, there was a lot of spray on the road…but…the police aren't sure why the crash happened."

"And is Richard…he's okay?" she asked in more of a pleading whisper.

"He hit his head, Martha, so the doctors put him into a temporary coma to help with any swelling. But he's doing really well," she added hastily, as Martha began to sniffle on the other end of the line. "I'm here at the hospital with him now. They're bringing him round and the doctors say he's doing really well. I was about to go back in and sit with him when you called."

"That explains why we couldn't get through to him on the phone. I'm so glad you're with him, darling. If anyone can look after him, you can."

Kate knew that Martha believed and meant every word she'd just said. But she also knew that none of it was true. Aside from attempting to keep him safe out in the field, Kate had never really taken care of Richard Castle in any traditional sense – not his value to her, his friendship or his heart, especially not his heart. She had left his emotional wellbeing to his own care and attention. Even when she could see that he craved some kindness or recognition from her, she had ignored it, pushed it away, and that, after all, was how they had all ended up in this mess, poor Gina included.

_Oh, God, Gina!_

* * *

"Uh…Martha, there's something else I need to tell you. Some really bad news, I'm afraid."

"What is it? He's not permanently impaired, disfigured…_disabled?_"

"No, Martha, Castle should be fine. He has a broken arm, but he should be fine. No, I'm talking about Gina. She was with him when the crash happened."

"Gina was there?"

Kate momentarily stumbled on detecting Martha's surprise at learning Gina was in the car with Castle. But she stepped over it and carried on with the serious task she had begun. "Yes, and, I'm afraid Gina didn't make it. Martha, Gina's dead."

Whether stunned silence on the Parisian end of the line or simply the time delay, Martha's pause didn't last long. "I…I don't understand. Gina was _there?_ With Richard? Why would she be there?"

"I don't know. I haven't spoken to Castle in a couple of weeks. I just assumed—"

"Who was driving?" Martha cut back in, sharp and incisive.

"Eye witnesses place Rick at the wheel," she confirmed. "They were headed back to the city in his car. As I said, the weather was atrocious."

"My poor boy. How is he coping? Oh, how he must be riddled with guilt."

"Martha, Castle doesn't know anything about Gina's death. He was unconscious when the EMTs brought him in last night. He's been in a medically induced coma ever since."

Nurse Alvarez appeared within Kate's line of sight, tentatively waving to get her attention.

"Listen, Martha, the nurse is waving for me to go back into Rick's room. I guess he must be coming round. Can you organize flights home for yourself and Alexis and then call me back? I can arrange to have someone waiting at the airport to meet you."

"Darling, that would be wonderful. Now, you go in there and you kiss my son for me, won't you? We're staying at the Plaza Athénée Hotel in case you have to get back in touch before we leave. Room 447. I'll call as soon as I know what flight we're on."

"Okay. Speak soon."

"Oh, and Kate?"

"Yes?"

"Would you tell him for me?"

Kate frowned, believing she'd misheard part of the request. "I…I'm sorry, I think the line must have dropped out. Tell him what?"

"Would you tell him about Gina? Please? The sooner he knows the better and I know it'll sound better coming from you?"

_Sound better?!_

"I'm sorry, _sound better?_" asked Kate, unable to help herself.

Martha stumbled and stuttered over her reply. "Well, not exactly _better_…but…oh my, you know what I mean. You're so dear to him, Kate, and he looks up to you and…would you please just break it to him gently? You're used to delivering bad news and I'm not sure he'd appreciate it coming from me," she fretted.

Kate sighed, hoping such sounds didn't travel so well long distance. "I'll do my best. But only if I can find the right time. He'll be pretty tired, I expect. The doctor said he might be anxious, even a little depressed. But I'll do what I can."

She caught sight of Nurse Alvarez waiting for her, an excited, expectant look on her face, as if she had a gift she was waiting to deliver, and she decided to end the call.

"Listen, Martha, I really have to go. Call back when your flights are confirmed and I'll be able to update you then."

It was only once the call had ended, the connection to Paris lost, that she remembered the diamond ring. But by then it was too late to ask. Her partner was awake apparently. And she'd been chosen to be the bearer of bad news. This was not turning out to be her best week ever.

* * *

Castle was sleeping when she entered his room, briefed to expect not too much in the next hour or so. His blood pressure, pulse-ox levels and heart rate were all good. He was breathing on his own, so they had taken the step of extubating him while Kate was outside of the room talking to Martha. The residual drugs in his system, coupled with the natural desire of his body to heal itself, had sent him into a light sleep as soon as he was resettled.

"How did he seem?" asked Kate, taking a tentative seat beside his bed.

"A little confused, which is entirely normal," explained the nurse. "He didn't know where he was. The doctor explained about the crash, obviously. We'll run more cognitive tests once he's more alert. But early signs are all good."

"His mother and daughter are making plans to come home," Kate told Nurse Alvarez, needing to tell someone.

"Good. He knows you're here. That seemed to calm him. Patients coming round from an induced coma can be agitated, sometimes even aggressive."

"I had no idea."

"Some react to the drugs. Coming back can be a shock to the system. Extubation is frightening in itself sometimes, if the patient works against the removal of the tube. It can leave them feeling that they're fighting for breath or choking."

"But you said he seemed calm."

"Once he was breathing on his own and the doctor explained that you were just outside, yes, he got a lot calmer. He's asleep now. But you should be able to talk to him shortly. I'll bring you a cup of tea while you wait."

"Actually, could you make that coffee?" asked Kate, allowing herself to feel the first uplift of hope since the day Castle had walked away.

"Sure. And like before, you can talk to him. It might help keep him calm when he wakes up again."

"Did…did the doctor explain about Ms Griffin?" asked Kate, wishing that he had while not holding out much hope.

The nurse shook her head. "That's not our place, and he wasn't conscious enough to hear it then."

"I understand. Thank you," she said, sinking back into the familiar armchair to wait.

* * *

Shortly after the nurse left the silence became too much, and she began to talk in quiet tones designed to sooth but not to wake necessarily, though she kept her commentary to topics she planned to share with him when he was fully alert. This became a kind of dress rehearsal.

"So…your mom finally called. She and Alexis are making plans to come home. I'm sure they can't wait to see you."

She waited a beat or two, her breath held, listening and watching for any sign of reaction from Castle, any indication that he could hear her. When he remained deathly still, eyes unmoving beneath his eyelids, she resumed her musings.

"Your mom wanted me to give you a kiss from her. I'm sure you'd milk that ruthlessly just to embarrass me if you were awake. But since you're not, here it is. I won't tell if you won't," she whispered, kissing the tips of her fingers and then brushing them across his forehead. "There, don't say I never give you anything," she added, smiling to herself, tears swimming in her eyes as she forced her voice to remain light and strong for Castle's sake.

She texted Esposito to update him during a lull in her one-sided conversation, and then the nurse brought her a cup of coffee and she sat back again.

As she sipped the hot, fragrant liquid, she watched him – sleeping, bruised, with his poor damaged arm lying atop the white sheet. His cheeks bore a little more color, the tan he'd acquired over the last couple of weeks spent out at the beach aiding this appearance of recovery.

"I don't think I've ever seen you not shave for this long," she mused aloud, taking another long drag from her cup, feeling the caffeine begin to flood her coffee-starved system.

She startled, almost spilling her coffee, when Castle unexpectedly let a puff of air out through his parched lips, opened his eyes and turned his head to look at her.

"Beckett?" he slurred, the bright blue of his irises glinting amidst the puffy slits of his upper and lower lids.

"Hey," she whispered, quickly setting the cup on the floor. "Look who's back," she added, standing to lean closer to the bed, her muscles forming a grateful, on-the-verge-of-serious-tears smile.

"Coffee. Smell coffee," he rasped out hoarsely, slowly, with all the verbal skills of a newborn foal attempting to stand.

A tear slipped out and broke for the border, skidding down the slope of Kate's cheek like a ski jumper. She sniffed and swiped it away with the back of her hand, forcibly maintaining her watery smile for him.

"Yeah. My first cup in over two weeks, can you believe?" she grinned, reaching for his undamaged hand and curling her fingers around and under his palm.

"Why?" he asked, eyes growing wider. The idea that she could give up her serious caffeine habit anathema to him even in this state.

"Long story," murmured Kate, giving his hand a squeeze. "Just rest now. I'll call the doctor. He wants a word with you."

"_Stay?_" Castle begged, breaking into a coughing fit with the effort of rasping out that single word as soon as she made to let go of his hand and leave the room.

"Okay. I'm right here. Not going anywhere," she promised, watching in disbelief as his eyes slipped closed on a smile, and he drifted back to sleep, exhausted.

* * *

He woke for a second time around thirty minutes later, catching Kate cat-napping in the chair beside his bed.

"Water," he hissed, wincing as the syllables were roughly ejected by his tender, parched throat.

She startled to attention, finding him watching her with curious, slightly dulled eyes.

"I'll ask the nurse to bring you water. Just hang tight."

"Not going…anywhere," he grit his teeth to say.

"Still with the smart mouth," joked Kate, relieved to see some spirit coming from the too-silent figure in the bed; a man she knew to be talkative (indeed difficult to shut up), ebullient and optimistic. He seemed so reduced, diminished in his present state, like a once bright photograph bleached by the sun.

When she returned from a brief foray to the nurses' station he was still awake, lying staring up at the ceiling, his brow furrowed into a tight, frightening frown.

"Ramona's bringing ice chips," she announced with forced brightness, nerves tugging at her every time she thought about broaching the subject of Gina.

"Ramona?" he whispered.

"Uh…yeah, that's Nurse Alvarez to you," grinned Kate.

"How long have you—" Castle broke off from trying to speak, shaking his head and pointing to his throat to indicate that it hurt too much to talk.

"I got here early this morning," Kate filled in for him. "Came out with the boys. They went back to the city to try to track down your mom and Alexis. But Javi should be here soon. He's bringing me a change of clothes…some other stuff…" She trailed off when Castle closed his eyes and covered them with his hand.

"Are you okay? Does it hurt? Tell me where it hurts," she asked, standing up to lean over him once again.

"How did I get here?" he asked her, his bloodshot eyes locking with hers, a trick she knew he often used when he thought she might avoid a tricky subject or try to blow him off.

"You were in a car accident, remember?"

He nodded, brain working hard to pull the fuzzy bits and pieces of memory together.

"You were knocked unconscious, Castle. The EMT's brought you in by ambulance."

She had no idea whether or not to leap to the next terrible part of the story at this point. It seemed natural. He was awake and alert. And she had to do it sometime, she reasoned.

"There's one other thing I need to tell you about the crash," she explained, bracing herself for the task.

He turned his face to her, the same terrible frown back in place, as if he remembered something but just couldn't get the jumble to make sense.

"Castle, Gina was in the car with you last night."

He nodded slowly.

Kate leaned in and took his hand. "I'm afraid she didn't make it. Gina passed away at the scene, Rick. I'm so sorry," she whispered through a noose of tears, watching as his gaze moved slowly and deliberately over her face, before he turned his head away to face the window.

"Rick, did you hear me? Did you understand what I just said?" asked Kate, letting her hand come to rest on his shoulder.

"Need sleep," he managed to say, right before closing his eyes again.

"How're we all doing in here?" asked Nurse Alvarez, entering the room with her cheerful smile and a bright orange plastic cup filled with ice chips.

"Can I have a word with you? Outside?" asked Kate, giving Castle a long worried look.

"Sure. Just let me give Mr. Castle a couple of these and I'll be right out."

* * *

True to her word, the nurse reappeared merely a minute or so later. "Is there a problem?" she asked, coming to stand in front of Kate where she was leaning against a wall to prop herself up.

"How did he seem to you?"

"Tired, obviously. But other than that…fine. Why?"

"I told him about his…I don't even know what to call her. His ex-wife or his girlfriend, publisher, whatever…"

"And?"

"I explained that she didn't make it and he…_nothing_. He just told me he wanted to sleep."

"That's a big loss to learn about when you're still dealing with waking up in the hospital, not knowing how you got here, not to mention the after-effects of the drugs."

"You think I should have waited?"

"I think no time is a good time to hear someone close to you died, especially since Mr. Castle was the one driving. He's bound to blame himself."

"What do I do? I'm no good at this…but right now, I'm all he's got."

"Take your cues from him. If he wants to talk, talk. If he wants to sleep, that's no bad thing either. Just sit with him unless he asks you to leave. That way he'll feel less alone and confused when he wakes up."

"I wish his family were here."

"You're doing a great job, Detective."

"Please, call me Kate."

"None of this is easy, I know. But the worst is over. He's going to get better. Now it's all about healing, and healing just takes time. Be patient. He'll come round," promised the nurse, giving her a sympathetic smile before departing to return to her duties.

Kate turned to face the observation window. She could see Castle lying in bed, his head turned away from her, apparently asleep or at least pretending to be, she wasn't sure. His reaction to the news of Gina's death was unsettling. She hoped she'd done the right thing in telling him, as Martha had asked her to. Only time would tell, she reasoned, as Nurse Alvarez had just promised.

"I hope you're right," she murmured under her breath, keeping vigil over her partner's sleeping form. "I really hope you're right."

_TBC..._


	5. Chapter 5 - Acceptance

**_Chapter 5 – Acceptance_**

They travelled together, another two hours deeper into this non-conversational landscape they were currently navigating…mapless - Castle sleeping, Kate sitting by his bed keeping watch, just sitting, thinking and then finally nodding off for brief periods of time.

When he woke it was with a start, the jerk of his injured arm sending Kate flying to the door of his room to elicit help from outside: more medication, any relief she could get from watching him hiss and contort with pain. Another shot of morphine through his IV line and Castle seemed to sag before her eyes, melting into the puffy pillows behind his head as soon as the drug hit his system. He drifted off again to be tormented by crazy dreams that kept him out of reach for long stretches, eyes flickering beneath eyelids crisscrossed with fine, lilac veins, body shivering and twitching with memories or the unique creations of a writer's imagination.

He hadn't remained awake long enough for them to have any kind of conversation or for Kate to gauge how he was handling the news of Gina's death. She merely watched and waited, whole half hours slipping by without her really noticing, so focused was she on the rise and fall of the chest of the man lying in the bed in front of her. Nothing else mattered at this point. Just breathe in, breathe out, wait for Martha, and repeat.

A relief nurse appeared around five, a second cup of coffee and a couple of Mint Milanos delivered along with a hastily scribbled note from Ramona Alvarez.

_-Off shift until tomorrow morning. Gotta pick my kid up from childcare. Keep your chin up and try to get some sleep. Mr. Castle will need your help. See you Friday. Ramona.-_

This woman's ability to care went above and beyond anything Kate had ever experienced from a healthcare professional before. Her simple ability to tap into someone's mood and understand their need for reassurance, support, for a strong talking to or a light touch to the shoulder…or a kind, handwritten note for that matter. She was an angel, Ramona Alvarez, as far as Kate was concerned, and the world needed more people like her.

* * *

"Creepy," was the next slurred sound Kate heard Castle utter. Halfway down her cup of coffee, the cookies gone but not forgotten, he opened his eyes and stared right at her. "S'creepy," he muttered again, before turning his head away from her.

Kate decided to take the opening he had just offered, whether he intended it as such or not, and ran full tilt after him with it.

"You've got a nerve," she said, making sure the coffee aroma wafted in his direction, since it seemed to be the one thing that stimulated his brain most right now.

His hair shushed across the pillow when he turned his head back to regard her again. "Hmm?"

"I assume you mean me sitting here watching you while you sleep is creepy?"

Castle grunted, realizing he was being somewhat hypocritical. But Kate wasn't prepared to let him off so easy. Treating him with kid gloves would only make him sulky, revert to his childish ways, behave as if his mother was here fretting over him and not his NYPD partner, and that was who Kate needed to be for him in this moment – a tough, female work colleague he felt the need to impress. Not a shoulder to cry on. That could come later. First she had to toughen him up, get him to face up to reality.

"Whassa time?" he slurred, rubbing the back of his uninjured arm across his mouth, inadvertently catching the Venflon cannula on his chin.

He hissed in pain as the plastic tube tugged at the vein beneath his skin.

"Don't," Kate instructed, standing to ease his arm back down to his side.

Castle glared up at her while she fussed with the sheet stretched across his chest, letting her eyes drop eventually to catch his.

"What?" she snapped. "I'm no good at this either," she told him, her voice harsher than she maybe intended, though from the look in his eyes it seemed to be eliciting some kind of a response from him, which was progress, even if that response was fear and something like horrified surprise.

"Both arms are out of action for now," she carried on explaining, trying to keep him awake long enough to start some form of meaningful discussion. "This one is broken...pinned I think they said. They're giving you a brace in a couple of days when the swelling goes down and the wounds heal. The other hand has your IV catheter inserted in the back. Try not to move them if you can help it. Last thing we want is arterial spray all over this lovely ceiling," she added sarcastically, hazarding a glance up at the acoustic tiles and institutional lighting above the bed.

Castle grunted some kind of amusement. "Great bedside manner," his voice barely above a whisper, but the words clearer this time.

"My title is _detective_, I think you'll recall. Never could have made it as a nurse. Don't intend changing career now," she said tartly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Even for me?" Castle whispered, a surprisingly flirtatious edge to his words and the accompanying glint in his eye.

"Even for you, Romeo," Kate replied, flashing him a smile.

"You look tired," he informed her, seemingly oblivious to the irony in his comment.

"You can talk," she fired back, feeling so much more comfortable with this level of interaction.

"I have an excuse," he rallied, lifting the arm containing his IV line a couple of inches off the bed to demonstrate, before letting it fall gently back to earth. "What's yours?"

Kate thought for a mere nanosecond before replying. "You're my excuse. Guess some things never change," she muttered, more to herself than to her partner.

"Missed this," Castle replied, flooding Kate's cheeks with color and setting her heart pounding frantically.

She had no idea what to say to that. He missed their banter, their rapport? Where was the grief he was supposed to be experiencing? Could he have forgotten what she told him about Gina? Was it a side effect of the painkillers? Was she so tired she was hallucinating this entire conversation?

"Do you?"

His follow-up question gave her the answer to her final thought. He was asking her if she missed their back-and-forths too.

She looked down and the floor between her knees and then back up at Castle's pale, puffy face. "Of course."

The light in Castle's eyes made her uncomfortable and she found herself needlessly saying more than she should.

"I mean what cop could resist having you tag along, embarrassing them, spinning wild theories, never staying in the car?"

She meant to be jovial, but the light in his eyes dimmed and then he turned his head away from her again, until all she could see was his right ear and the back of his head, and all she could feel was this thick, churning disappointment in her own stomach; a self-disgust that made her want to vomit.

"I'll let you sleep," she whispered after a moment or two of staring at the back of his head. She stood, touching a hand to his shoulder. "Press the alarm if you need anything. The nurse will come."

Castle lay on his back with his head to one side, a tear leaking out of his left eye and running down into the pillow, though Kate was unaware of this at the time.

She was halfway to the door when she heard him sniff. Loudly. She had her hand on the cool, silver handle when she heard him whisper her name. "Kate?" For a second or two she considered ignoring the thin, needy sound, pretending that she hadn't heard this pathetically weak cry for help. But then she thought of Ryan and Esposito, their disgust at her own weakness this morning, at her inability to pull it together to be there for her partner, whether past or present, in his hour of need.

"Do you need something?" she asked, when she turned around to find him staring at her back, cheeks wet, nose running.

"Tell me about Gina?" he asked, and she wished more than anything that she had let her feet carry her on out that door and never look back.

She wasn't built for this. Sure she performed death notifications all the time – it was her least favorite part of the job, but she prided herself on her sensitivity. She had been there. Nineteen years old and she had had her life irrevocably changed by two stony-faced, uniformed cops - the stuff of every normal person's nightmares – waiting on the Beckett doorstep to deliver the worst, most final news possible.

"Please?" he asked, refusing to look away from her even as her eyes wavered on his face.

* * *

She handed him a tissue, helped him blow is nose, and then she sat down, or more like sank onto the chair, ignoring the rude, whoopee cushion emission of air this time. They both did, which only served to highlight how far from normal they'd come.

"What do you want to know? I only have what the Highway Patrolmen told us earlier."

"What did…" Castle swallowed thickly after just a couple of words and then he gestured towards the plastic beaker sitting on the over-bed table that straddled the foot of the hospital bed.

Kate rose, fetched the plastic cup and spoon and then scooped out a few melting chips of ice, offering them to him. Spoon-feeding her partner felt odd, too intimate, a transaction that seemed to tie them further together in some way she wasn't prepared for, just like helping him blow his nose had moments earlier. But when he opened his mouth, throat parched and raw, desperate for a little hydration and relief, she couldn't deny him. He looked shattered, so vulnerable, and as she'd told Nurse Alvarez earlier that day: she was all he had for now.

He swallowed the melting ice, nodded in relief, and then opened his mouth for more.

"Take it easy. You don't want to choke," Kate chided when he grasped her wrist with his uninjured hand to prevent her from moving the plastic cup out of reach.

"More," he asked, face upturned like a baby bird waiting to be fed regurgitated scraps by its mother.

She spooned the rest of the ice into his mouth and then put the cup aside, melted runoff swilling in the bottom. "These are all done. You want me to go get you some more?"

Castle settled back onto his pillow and shook his head. "Not yet. Tell me what the police said?"

Kate let out a heavy breath and then she lowered herself carefully to sit on the hateful hospital chair. "They said the weather might have been a factor," she began, only half-lying. "It was really bad last night…the rain…a lot of water on the road. Somehow your car veered out of its lane…they're not clear how. It hit the median, spun, I think, and then it crossed the other lane to hit the barrier by the side of the road."

"Was anyone else…did I hit anything?"

"Another car, but just a glancing blow," she quickly assured him when alarm lit his eyes right up. "The people inside are okay. A little whiplash maybe, but nothing worse."

He nodded, quietly processing, and Kate waited for him to ask her for more information rather than offering it. She wanted to know how much he remembered, but she didn't want to push him to face memories he wasn't ready for, so she decided to follow his lead.

It didn't take long. He looked down at the bed, at his legs stretched out beneath the thin covers, at the twin points of his toes sticking up near the base of the bed and then he turned to look at his pinned, broken arm, wrapped up in bandages. "What about Gina? What did they say about—" He broke off to clear his throat. "About Gina?"

"I don't know any exact details, other than the fact that she was pronounced dead at the scene," she explained quietly. "I'm so sorry, Rick. You must be…"

She stopped short of offering an adjective for what he must be, because she didn't exactly know, shrugging helplessly instead. Was he devastated, grief-stricken, had he just lost the love of his life? A glance at his face left her no clearer as to how he was feeling.

"What about her family…her mom and sister, did they—"

He coughed suddenly, alarm flaring in his eyes as he struggled upright, his face a pale shade of sickly green when he convulsed and then clamped a hand over his mouth.

Kate lunged for the kidney shaped emesis basin by the bed. She held it beneath his chin just in the nick of time as he began to vomit clear, frothy bile into the molded pulp tray. But the sides were shallow, more suited to the controlled task of wound washing or the storage of used dressings, and so some of the vomit splashed onto the white sheet beneath, while still more dribbled onto Castle's patterned gown.

Kate placed the gray basin onto the table at the end of the bed once she was sure he was done, pressed the patient alarm and then set about cleaning her partner up with a stack of pathetically unfit paper towels she found near the sink.

Castle surrendered too easily to Kate's ministrations. He lay back on his pillows, defeated, as she wiped and dabbed at the front of his gown, at the stained sheet, and then carefully washed and dried his mouth and chin. She fashioned a cold compress by soaking a pad of towels beneath the running faucet, holding them against his forehead and then the back of his neck to make him feel more human, cooler, cleaner. They made eye contact briefly during this process and then Castle cut his gaze away in silent humiliation.

"You'd do this for me, I hope?" she said, attempting to break the disturbing tension with something approximating humor, assuming it was better to acknowledge the elephant in the room than not.

But Castle wasn't for playing ball. In fact he almost seemed beyond reach.

"Hey, this is what partners do," she told him, balling up the used paper towels and then pitching them into the foot-operated garbage disposal in the corner.

She washed her hands in the small, wall-mounted sink, dried them on more non-absorbent towels and then trashed them too. On the way back over she tried not to look at the opaque, half-full bag attached to the side of the bed, collecting and measuring the urine output from Castle's Foley catheter. All dignity had been left at the door, and she couldn't see how their partnership could remain the same after this. It would be a question of manning up and growing closer or running for the hills and never looking back. Right now, she felt ill-informed, unwilling to bet her pension on the outcome.

* * *

A nurse finally bustled in with a harried, expectant look on her face. "Someone press the buzzer?" she asked, looking from the patient to his visitor and back for the culprit.

"Mr. Castle was…he was sick. He'll need a change of gown and the sheets replaced," Kate explained, thrust into the role of advocate once more, despite Castle's relative state of alertness.

"Give me ten minutes. We just got word of a new arrival. They're on their way down from the roof right now. Helicopter," she said, pointing upwards. "I'll come back as soon as I can," she promised, offering a bright, white smile to counteract the lack of formal introduction or any specific help.

"Can you tell me where I can get more ice chips?" asked Kate, wondering if she should offer to do more than that: like maybe change him out of the soiled gown.

"Small kitchen down the hall. You can refill his beaker in there," the nurse replied, ignoring Castle completely before disappearing out the door.

"Beckett, you can go," Castle said coldly, as soon as the nurse had left the room. "Seriously…you must have better things to do."

"What? Than wipe up your vomit? Nah!" she smiled, waiting for him to do the same, tired of this battle already, hoping for some level of acceptance.

"I'm serious. I'm pretty sure the partner code doesn't say anything about this. I _stink_," he said, plucking at his damp gown with disgust. "Just go. You heard her…they'll be back soon. I can wait."

"Castle—"

"Kate, I don't want you seeing me like this," he grit out, the flash of anger utterly unexpected, though heartening in some strange way since it looked a lot better than apathy.

"Too late. I already saw. Now, rinse your mouth out with this," she instructed, handing him the plastic cup with a couple of inches of melted ice left in the bottom. "Then spit in here so I can trash it," she said, holding the emesis basin out for him once more.

"So bossy," Castle muttered, watching her deal with his small dish of vomit like it was nothing more offensive than cold coffee.

"Missed your calling," he added, when she came back over. "Bedside manner like that, you'd be on the fast track to management by now."

"Watch your mouth," Kate muttered, rather enjoying this sarcastic, caustic little exchange.

* * *

They quickly settled back into familiar roles, or what passed for familiar right now. After a glimmer of hope, Castle took to staring sullenly out the window, while Kate pretended to read the _Long Island Herald_ she had dictated to him earlier, while he was still under sedation.

Ten minutes or more passed like this before Castle asked, "How was your weekend away with Demming? Did you say you'd rented a cottage or—"

Kate froze, caught off-guard by the casual question. She lowered the newspaper into her lap and looked at him. "Didn't happen," she muttered, keen to stop his flow but uncertain what to explain if he asked.

"Oh. Sorry."

"Don't be. Tom's a nice guy, but…" She shook her head and when Castle kept watching her, waiting for her to finish, she reluctantly added, "Would never have worked."

"Really?" he asked, his voice betraying a level of interest that puzzled her. "I thought you guys seemed…" He shrugged, and it was Kate's turn to wait for an answer.

"What?" she asked, driven to by curiosity.

"Like a match."

"No," said Kate, fiddling with the newspaper in her lap. "Spark went out," she told him, flashing a wry smile.

It was at this point that she would have turned the tables, asked him about his vacation, how he and Gina had been getting along, but for obvious reasons she now couldn't.

But it didn't seem to stop Castle. "Gina and I were—"

He broke off almost immediately, and Kate stared in horror as he began to cry. He tried to bury his face in his hand, to cover his eyes at least, but the cannula made it awkward and painful, and so he turned his head away, tears streaming down his face.

"Castle…Rick, look at me," she said, dropping the newspaper to the floor and sitting down on the edge of his bed, taking his uninjured hand in hers. "You've had a terrible shock. You're grieving for Gina. I can't imagine the sense of loss you must be feeling right now…the pain, but—"

At this point, true to her word, the nurse, a cheery Ghanaian woman whose name turned out to be Blossom, returned to Castle's room. She reappeared armed with a fresh gown, a new set of sheets and a single red gerbera jammed into a plastic water jug.

"There. Bright and cheerful," the nurse said, plopping the water jug-come-flower vase down on the window ledge. "That'll make him smile," she told Kate, before breaking into a hearty chuckle that made her ample bosom bounce up and down.

Castle looked at the single, lonely bloom, and then he looked at Kate. Telepathy allowed them to share the same sentiment: nice thought, shame about the execution.

"Could you give us a minute, honey?" asked the nurse, setting her supplies down before closing the curtain across the observation window to Castle's room. She seemed oblivious to her part in interrupting a difficult, emotional, to say nothing of private conversation.

"We'll have you tidied up and looking handsome in no time, my love," said Blossom, giving Kate an exaggerated, theatrical wink that the newborns in the nursery couldn't miss.

Kate gladly accepted this excuse to leave the ICU room, to get a little space to think and stretch her legs. She pulled a few Kleenex from the box on the over-bed table, stuffed them into Castle's good hand and backed away towards the door.

"I'll be right outside," she promised her partner, when she looked back at the bed and caught the mild flash of panic that crossed his face at being left alone with this jolly stranger, despite the act of sullenness he'd recently been indulging in while Kate kept him company.

He watched her go and when she turned at the door to give him a little wave, he nodded in a gesture of kinship with her, gratitude finally apparent in his eyes.

* * *

She was no sooner out in the hall that her cell phone rang, the out of country number indicating that it might be Martha calling back. Her spirits perked up immediately. Help was on its way.

"How's my son?" The first, anxious question out of Martha's mouth once the pleasantries were out of the way.

"He's doing okay. He's awake, talking…I told him about Gina, like you asked."

"Oh, thank you, darling. Thank you. I knew I could count on you. How did he take the news?"

"I'm not sure. One minute he's upset, the next he seems hard to reach…withdrawn. Tell me you're coming home soon?"

"Alexis got us seats with Air France. We depart Charles de Gaulle later tonight. The flight gets into JFK around ten-thirty in the morning."

"Oh, thank God," uttered Kate, forgetting to filter her thoughts in front of Castle's mother.

"Darling, are you sure he's okay? There's nothing you're not telling me?"

Kate almost kicked herself for worrying the older woman long distance. "Nothing, Martha. I just think it'll be better for everyone once you and Alexis are by his side, here for him. He needs his family now more than ever."

"My dear, you're family too," said Martha, with such feeling that Kate almost believed it.

But she'd just watched her partner break down and sob over the loss of his girlfriend. She wasn't family, she was old news, nothing more than a former coworker who found herself caught up in some bizarre, moral obligation to babysit her injured partner until his real family could get here.

"Kate?"

"Still here," she said, chewing on her lip.

"Is Richard giving you a hard time? He makes a terrible patient, darling. But only because he's scared."

Kate frowned and rubbed at her forehead. It had been a long day and Castle's mother was still really far away, but she needed to understand the whole story before she came wafting in making false assumptions about everything. "Martha, Rick is grieving right now. He's grieving for Gina and I respect that. So it doesn't matter what he says to me, how hard a time he gives me…I'll be here until you get back. You don't have to worry about that."

She heard Martha sigh, a sound like defeat or maybe forbearance, and then immediately take a deep breath, as if to rally some emotional reserve.

"Kate, did Richard explain _why_ he was driving back to the city last night even though the roads were so terrible?"

"No…we got interrupted by a nurse, why?"

"Darling, he was coming to Paris to get away from her…from Gina. So you see you can't leave…not now."

"Are…are you sure?" asked Kate, feeling her hopes rising like a weather balloon, all by themselves, with absolutely no help from her at all.

"Ask him yourself. And please give him our love. Alexis is frantic. Tell him it won't be long now. And darling?" she said, on the cusp of ending the long distance call.

"Yes?" asked a dazed Kate.

"Hang in there. Talk to him and hang in there, my dear. My son needs you, Kate. We all do. Take care and thank you. We'll see you tomorrow morning."

And with that, Martha was gone, leaving a stunned, confused Kate Beckett standing out in the hall, clutching her phone to her chest.

_TBC..._


	6. Chapter 6 - Confession

_A/N: Happy Easter if you celebrate, if not, hope you're having a good weekend. Also recommend a listen of the song I've quoted below. This guy is a great talent._

* * *

_I didn't know I was in love with you_

_Until you were gone_

_I was just lonely, I just needed someone_

_To share my nights with, to turn me on_

_I didn't know I was in love with you_

_Until you were gone_

_**John Fullbright**__ – Until You Were Gone_

* * *

**_Chapter 6 – Confession_**

Kate paced the reception area of the ICU, walking in circles in front of the nurses' station until one of them cracked and asked if she was okay. She nodded and moved away at this point to prowl the corridors unobserved, suspecting she might have been talking out loud without realizing it.

To profit from Gina's death would be despicable. That was something she had already decided to avoid at all cost. It was also why she had planned to stay with Castle only as long as necessary. She would keep him company, help take care of him if she could right up until his family arrived, and then she would leave. She would depart for the city leaving the future of their partnership up to him. The next move had to come from him.

That had been her strategy all along. But if Castle had planned to leave the country because of Gina, to leave her behind, as Martha had just told her…did that change the rules?

When she got back to his room he was still awake, propped up with the bed slightly raised and his pillows freshly plumped. She checked through the observation window to make sure he wasn't sleeping and then she popped her head around the door.

"Hey," she called quietly, offering him a friendly smile. "You okay for a visitor?"

"Is Alexis here?" he asked, eagerly looking past her out into the corridor.

Kate cringed and sadly shook her head. "No, not yet. I actually meant me. Stupid joke," she added, biting her lip.

"See, I have you in my head as a nurses' aide now, so…" he half-shrugged, making a joke of his own.

"Okay, we both know I'd make a terrible nurses' aide. That means you win lamest joke of the day."

"So far," countered Castle. "The night is young."

"Does that mean I can come in?"

"There are no jobs needing done right now, but if you can bear to just sit in that chair and stare creepily, you're welcome to."

Kate's smiled widened. "Can't think of anywhere else I'd rather be," she said, edging between the bed and the chair so she could sit down.

* * *

"Thanks," Castle said out of the blue, a couple of moments later, running his good hand over the fresh sheet while staring down at his useless, bandaged arm.

"Forget it," Kate told him, picking a piece of lint off her jeans.

"I'm serious. What you did…above and beyond."

"You can do it for me some day. Then we're even."

"I'd rather you just said "no problem, Castle". The thought of finding you in ICU is…" He shook his head and looked away.

"Fine. You're welcome. Not a problem. Now can we please move on?"

"Thank-yous really make you that uncomfortable?" Castle half-chuckled, taking some pleasure from watching her squirm.

"When they're unwarranted, yes."

"You were just doing your job? That it? The partner thing again?"

"I was helping out a friend," she clarified, looking Castle right in the eye.

"Is that what we are, Kate?"

Her heart began to hammer. "Friends? I hope so. I just wiped vomit off your hospital gown. What would you call it?"

But Castle ignored her question, drifting into some other conversational domain that had Kate frowning and concerned. "I think I owe you an apology."

"An apology? No, I'm sure that's— Anyway, I have news," she said, deflecting from the one conversation she was pretty sure she wasn't ready to have.

"News? What kind of news? Were you speaking to my doctor? Oh, and before you answer that, I have to warn you that we will be returning to the matter of that apology later on."

"Castle," Kate sighed in frustration, "my news?"

"Right, this better be good. As in, "Mr. Castle, you're being discharged today," kind of good."

Kate thought for a second, couldn't match his expectations, so she shook her head. "You just came out of a coma a few hours ago. Don't make me feel bad because you got your hopes too high."

"I'm not trying to make you feel bad."

"Well, you did."

"Then I apologize."

"Nothing I'd like more than to boost us both out of here," she sighed, looking around the hospital room. "But I can't."

"Okay, well, if that's the bad news. What's the good news?"

"Your mom called when I was outside. She and Alexis are flying back from Paris tonight. They should be at the hospital before lunchtime tomorrow. I'm sending a car to pick them up from JFK."

Castle smiled a slow and growing smile which Kate matched twinkle for twinkle.

"Pretty good, huh? Told you I had great news. Then I'll get out of your hair, let you take it easy for a bit."

The slow smile dimmed and slowly disappeared again. "Yeah, you…you must have stuff to do…work back in the city, cases…"

"Mm, it's been—"

She was about to tell him that the last couple of weeks had been super busy, that the time had flown by while he was gone and that she'd hardly even noticed his absence. But she couldn't force the words. She couldn't force the words of a lie.

* * *

"Forget work for now. Tell me what you remember about the crash," she asked, deciding it was time to stop messing around, time for both of them to do a little truth telling.

"I don't remember much."

Kate was pretty sure this wasn't true. She decided to test her theory. "Try. Just tell me what you _do_ remember."

Castle closed his eyes, appearing to imagine the night before inside his head. "I…it was dark, raining…_a lot_. There was a lot of rain. The windshield wipers almost couldn't cope."

"And the traffic? Was it heavy? Light?"

"Some…maybe. Look, I don't really remember."

Kate let out a long, slow breath she hoped sounded more patient than frustrated. "Let me try and help you. You were headed back to the city…with Gina. Your car veered out of its lane for some reason. Can you remember did you skid or…did something else happen to make you lose control?"

Castle looked pensive, thoughtful, which could either mean he was trying to remember or he was trying to make up something plausible to shut this pseudo-interrogation down. "I—" He shrugged and looked off out the window. "It's all kind of a blur."

She decided to change tack, to feed him more of the facts she already knew to see if that would force him into either remembering or explaining, _if_ he already knew.

"Okay, let's start a little further back. Last time I saw you, you were heading out to your house in the Hamptons to spend the summer with Gina," she said, trying not to sound bitter or affected in any way.

"And you had plans to take a rental with Demming," he countered, watching her face grow stony.

"Plans I…" She shook her head and then shrugged. "Doesn't matter. It didn't happen."

"Why? You never explained why."

"I told you. He wasn't the guy for me. Knowing that and then still going on vacation with him would have been wrong. So I nipped it in the bud."

Castle looked guilty when he heard this honest summation of her thought process where it related to Demming. He maybe even seemed a little embarrassed Kate was interested to note.

"How did you know? In fact,_ when_ did you know?" he asked, face wide with vested interest.

"We're supposed to be talking about you."

"Indulge me. I'm an invalid."

"Castle," she sniped, employing her no nonsense work tone.

"Kate," he fired back, goading her by raising his arm, the one with the IV line in the back as evidence.

"You're impossible," she growled, attempting to give him her best glare.

"To say no to, I hope?" he replied, offering a sly smile.

"I broke it off before you left, okay. Before Gina arrived. Before we had drinks with Montgomery and the guys. Satisfied?"

"Why are you so touchy about this? I don't understand."

"Why did you have an airline ticket to Paris in your coat pocket the night of the crash?"

The bomb dropped, Kate sat back in her seat and waited. The detonation didn't take long.

"Who told you about that?"

"The nurses had to go through your clothes to check for I.D when you were brought in unconscious."

"Do you know where my wallet is?"

"I'm surprised it took you this long to ask. The police brought some personal effects in earlier today. They asked me to identify some stuff and then sign for them. I was supposed to hold them for you until you woke up."

Castle looked around the room. "So…where are they?"

"I…I couldn't…" She wrapped her arms around her body and shivered just thinking about the plastic evidence bag, about the Art Deco diamond ring.

"What? You couldn't keep my wallet? What's…I don't understand the problem here, Kate."

"They brought your wallet…"

"Yeah, and?"

"The nurses already had your cell phone. It broke. From the rain or the impact…they don't know. It was found outside the car, some distance away I think. Anyway, I asked the boys to take it back to Tech, see if they could get it working again when we were still trying to find your mom. They took the rest of your stuff and locked it up for safekeeping."

"You've been pretty busy. So...is that how you found my mom?"

"No. The keys to your loft were in the bag too. I'm sorry I had to invade your privacy, but under the circumstances…" she shrugged. "I didn't have a choice. I asked the guys to go to the loft and look for clues that might help us get in contact with your mom and Alexis."

"Did they find anything?"

"I remembered you said Paris, but I don't think you said anything else about their trip. The guys found contact details for your travel agent at the loft. But before they could track her down your mom actually called me."

"Oh."

"Yeah. She was trying to get in touch with you about your own travel plans to France, but your phone was off," said Kate, watching the writer closely for any reaction. "For some reason she thought you and I were still in contact. She had no idea about the crash. I had to tell her, Rick."

"How'd she take it?"

"Shocked, worried…mostly about you. All the things you'd imagine. She seemed relieved I was with you."

"Not the only one."

"Castle, I also had to tell her about Gina."

"Right," he said stiffly. "I understand."

"But see that's the part I _don't_ understand. Your mom, she uh…she seemed pretty surprised that Gina was in the car with you that night. Why would that be?" she asked, leaving out the part where Martha had told her his plan to join them in Paris was a way to leave Gina behind, to escape.

"I made a mistake."

"What kind of mistake?"

"Thinking I could go back. Even _wanting_ to in the first place was a dumb mistake."

"You're not making much sense."

"You said you knew Demming wasn't the guy for you. _How_ did you know?"

Kate shrugged, trying to keep the sudden flare of panic she felt on the inside. "I just did. You just know these things."

"Like you knew accepting my invitation to the Hamptons would have been a mistake too?" he asked testily.

"No, that was—"

Castle cut Kate off before she could finish saying what she wanted to say, pitching headlong into a guilty rant that had her worrying about his head and his blood pressure. "I made a mistake and _Gina_ paid the price. The _ultimate_ price."

He looked so tormented all of a sudden that she felt the need to placate him more than draw him out. The rest of the story could wait until later.

"Rick, you need to calm down. We all make mistakes."

But it didn't work. He carried on, steamed up and anxious.

"Can you say anyone _died_ following any mistake you've ever made?" he snapped. "_Can you?_" He watched her face for a second or two and then added, "Thought not. So don't try and console me with _"we've all been there, Castle"_. Because that is _bullshit_."

Kate was taken aback for all but a couple of seconds and then she let rip with a riposte of her own.

"That's where you're wrong. It's not bullshit. Gina did. Gina died because _I _made a monumental mistake. Gina died because I was too much of a coward to tell you how I…felt. So if anyone's to blame for her death…well, I guess we all share a portion." Gina included, she thought to herself.

* * *

By the time she had finished, Castle looked spent. Confused and spent.

"I…I'm sorry," Kate said, hastily standing. "I shouldn't have asked you about the crash. You must be exhausted. You should get some sleep so you're fresh when your mom and Alexis get here tomorrow. I'll just—"

"Sit," Castle interrupted, eyes like flint. "Sit down, _please_," he amended, after seeing her flinch.

Kate closed her eyes and shook her head. "I…"

"A woman died because of mistakes _we_ made…_if _I'm reading that…what was that? A confession, Beckett?"

"You're not well. This can wait. I shouldn't have said anything."

"Maybe not. But you can't un-say it now. So would you just sit down and tell me what the hell has been going on here…with you?"

Kate blew out one long, shaky breath and then she sank back down onto the hateful chair.

"Look, you're mourning your girlfriend. You've barely had time to process your loss. None of this is even relevant now. We both made choices, Castle. We can't un-ring that bell."

He seemed to ignore her, deciding to take control of the conversation whether she liked it or was ready for it or not. "Taking Gina to the Hamptons was my way of dealing with you rejecting me and choosing Demming instead."

"But I didn't exactly—"

Castle gave her a sharp look and she halted her denial.

"Okay, it might have looked that way. But you're wrong. I broke it off with Tom and I was going to tell you that I had decided to accept your invitation to go away with you. But then Gina arrived and—"

"Kate, you spent _days_ turning me down."

"I know, and I'm sorry. If I could turn back the clock…"

"You were going to come with me?" he asked, voice filled with such wonder and amazement it curdled her insides.

Kate nodded, and then stared down at her lap. "Yes. But I was too late. You had already patched things up with Gina. And I would _never_ interfere with that. I respected your choice. You know…_knew_ her a whole lot better than me. I didn't deserve one invitation never mind all the second chances you gave me."

"What happened after I left?" he asked too calmly.

Kate frowned. "When you left? I…I got on with my job, my life. Why?"

"When I called the precinct Javi told me you put in for a new partner."

Kate felt winded, as if someone had just kicked her right in the gut. "You called the precinct? _When?_"

"Does it matter?"

"_Yes_, it matters. Of course, it matters. I thought you left town and then…_nothing_," she said, throwing up her hands. "You sailed off into the sunset and forgot all about us."

"Us?"

"Me, the boys...the Twelfth."

Castle nodded slowly, sizing her up.

"So, why'd you call anyway?"

"Things with Gina started going south before we even arrived at the house. She…"

"Are you really sure you want to talk about this right now? It can wait."

"Kate, I know this makes you uncomfortable. But I don't think it can."

"Fine."

"Seems I talked rather a lot about you…in the precinct elevator, in the car, while I made dinner at the house that first night, watching a movie, walking the beach…" He broke off to pluck at the sheets, ashamed. "She didn't like it."

Kate arched an eyebrow. "What woman would?"

"It was all my fault. The trip, thinking we could go back in time…everything. Just so _stupid_. But I thought you were with Demming, so I tried to make the best of things..." He coughed, embarrassed. "I tried to persuade her it was just all the hours we spent working together, that I'd get it out my system in a couple of days. That I'd get _you_ out of my system."

Kate was reeling from his confession, but one thing still didn't make sense. "What about the ring?"

Castle's head shot up. "What ring?"

"The police…the bag of personal effects they brought in…there was a pretty expensive diamond ring in there along with your wallet, your keys, Gina's cell phone and this…this _big_, impressive ring."

Castle looked down at the bed and when he looked back up there were tears in his eyes. Kate's heart sank. Paris and a huge diamond? That was it. He said he had persuaded her, and persuasive he could be, Kate knew from first hand experience. The rest she didn't need to know. He had made his bed. She stood, nodded in his direction, pursed her lips tightly to hold it together, and then turned to leave.

"Thanks for explaining," she managed to say hoarsely, choked up. "Get some sleep. Your family will be here in a few hours."

* * *

She had her hand on the door handle, fingers squeezing hard enough around the cold metal to elicit pain in her joints when he spoke again.

"Grandmother's," he rasped.

Kate froze, her back still turned to him.

"The ring was her grandmother's. She fiddled with it all the time. Like…spun it around on her finger. It was too big for her. She'd lost weight recently I think. We were arguing…again. She dropped it in the footwell. Distracted me. Please sit?" he asked, stiffening her spine with his plaintive request.

"Kate, would you please sit down? I'm _so_ tired, and I'm tired of this…of missing each other all the time because we're too stubborn or afraid of rejection to say what we mean."

Pride, embarrassment, and yes, stubbornness, all made her want to carry on out the door. But her nascent love for this man was what made her turn around.

"The police have witnesses who say they saw Gina lunge for the steering wheel right before your car veered towards the median. Is that what happened?" she asked, sinking into the bedside chair again as if her bones had turned to marrow.

Castle slowly nodded his head and then he brought his gaze up to meet hers. "She wanted me to pull over so she could look for the damn ring. We were arguing because I told her it was too dangerous to stop on the side of the L.I.E. in a goddamn storm." He shook his head in utter devastation. "Kate, the rain…and it was _so dark_. I—"

When his breathing hiccupped and tears began to brim over and flood down his cheeks, she immediately got up on the side of the bed and carefully drew him into a hug.

"Shhh," she whispered against his neck. "You tried to do the right thing," she consoled him, rubbing soothing circles against his back. "You tried, Rick. You tried," she chanted, attempting to calm him down.

"But I killed her. Kate, _I_ killed Gina," he sobbed into her shoulder, quickly soaking her shirt through as his whole, broken frame shuddered and shook with grief.

A knock on the door startled them both.

"Hey, guys. Sorry to interrupt. The cops are here to interview Castle," said Esposito, worriedly locking eyes with Kate, as the two Highway Patrolmen she'd met earlier that day loomed in the open doorway behind Esposito's head.

_TBC..._


	7. Chapter 7 - Reasoning

_"She knows a thing or two about me_

_She didn't learn in passing_

_She knows I'm scared of the dark_

_She knows I'll bleed on command_

_She knows I'll shut my mouth_

_If she'll take my hand"_

_**John Fullbright **__– She Knows_

* * *

_Previously..._

_When his breathing hiccupped and tears began to brim over and flood down his cheeks, she immediately got up on the side of the bed and carefully drew him into a hug._

_"Shhh," she whispered against his neck. "You tried to do the right thing," she consoled him, rubbing soothing circles against his back. "You tried, Rick. You tried," she chanted, attempting to calm him down._

_"But I killed her. Kate, I killed Gina," he sobbed into her shoulder, quickly soaking her shirt through as his whole, broken frame shuddered and shook with grief._

_A knock on the door startled them both._

_"Hey, guys. Sorry to interrupt. The cops are here to interview Castle," said Esposito, worriedly locking eyes with Kate, as the two Highway Patrolmen she'd met earlier that day loomed in the open doorway behind Esposito's head._

* * *

**_Chapter 7 – Reasoning_**

"Javi, what the hell?" hissed Kate, putting herself between Castle and the open door. She pulled the curtain across the side of the hospital bed that was closest to the corridor and then gradually eased Esposito out of the room, backing him into the hall so that she could close the door over a little behind her, offering Castle some privacy.

"Get them out of here," she warned him, her voice a dangerous whisper as she tipped her chin at the two Nassau County cops, who had moved back marginally but were still hovering nearby.

Esposito looked over his shoulder at the men. "Yo, guys. Give us a minute?"

"We're just here to talk to Mr. Castle," explained Officer Holt, lounging against the opposite wall as if he planned on going nowhere, maybe even setting down roots.

"Now that he's awake," added Officer Gately, his notebook already open, the pages fanning back and forth like an accordion as it dangled from his hand.

Kate bit the inside of her cheek while she scanned the reception area for her partner's doctor or any available member of the medical staff that she recognized. The fingers of her right hand curled and unfurled with angry, agitated regularity. Ramona Alvarez would have seen this pair off at the pass, she thought ruefully, deciding she'd just have to perform the role of gatekeeper herself if it came down to that.

"Mr. Castle was just brought out of a coma. He is in _no way_ up for visitors. Rules are strict in ICU. No one outside of family," she argued, nodding her head towards a sign on the wall that bore an approximation of her claim.

"Look, we came all the way over here as soon as we heard he was compos mentis. We just want a chat."

Playing the "informal chat" card didn't wash with Kate.

"Yeah, five minutes of his time," threw in Holt, adding a tight grimace of a smile that wasn't helping at all.

Compos mentis? Five minutes? "He was in a _coma_ up until an hour ago," Kate lied, quite prepared to fudge the timeline if she had to in order to get these two goons to back-off until morning.

"Why don't we call the doc, see what he says?" suggested Gately, the one Kate thought of as the more devious of the two.

"Why don't you do that," Kate agreed, grabbing Esposito by the cuff and towing him back into Castle's room. "We'll wait in here. Call me when you get the doctor," she added, before disappearing inside.

* * *

"What were you _thinking?_" Kate hissed at Esposito once they were safely ensconced out of view in the narrow space between the door to Castle's room and the curtain around the bed.

Esposito shrugged. "I rode the elevator with them. Didn't see the harm."

"The harm— Get them to _back off_," Kate insisted, forgetting Castle was awake last time she looked, sitting up in bed behind the curtain most likely listening to all of this.

"A woman _died_ in that crash, Beckett. Hell, you heard him say it yourself, we all did: he killed Gina."

Kate stared at Esposito, wondering if she knew him at all, appalled that he would even say such a thing. "That was a private conversation. _Which_ you would have known if you'd bothered to knock on the damn door and announce yourself instead of arriving with those two vultures glued to your side."

"He still said it," Espo argued sullenly, not enjoying being told off for a second.

"He's grieving. People say things they don't mean when they're in shock. You _know_ that. We see it all the time."

"I don't know nothing about that. All I know is that Castle was at the wheel of that car. Witnesses confirm it. So, you can't expect them to just jog on by, case closed as some sort of professional courtesy 'cause the guy used to consult for NYPD."

The words "used to consult" stung painfully, playing into one of Kate's biggest fears: that her partner wouldn't ever be her partner again. She let Esposito's attitude and her own fear and lack of sleep get the better of her when they began to engage in a whispered argument.

"Why are you so down on him?"

"Why are you not? After what he did to you just a few weeks ago? You have a short memory all of a sudden?"

"I did that to myself," Kate insisted.

"That's a pretty fast turnaround, Beckett. What he say to you? Cos this morning you were drinking _tea_, refusing to even come out here and see him, claimed you'd already said your goodbyes. Hell, Montgomery had to order you out here. So what's changed?"

Kate was furious, but rather than rehash her private conversation with Castle, she opted to ask a question of Esposito instead. "Why didn't you tell me Castle called the precinct?"

His biggest tell that the decision not to inform her of the call was a deliberate act on his part was that he didn't pretend not to know about the call or to procrastinate even a little. He reached straight for a lie instead.

"Slipped my mind," he grit out, toeing the shiny linoleum, unable to even look her in the eye.

"Oh, slipped your mind?" nodded Kate, acting as if this was a reasonable explanation, right before she went in for the kill. "Was that while you were _slipping_ him the fact that I put in for a new partner?" she asked with no small amount of venom.

"Guy messed you around. Asked you out then shows up with his ex? And the partner thing's a fact."

"No, Espo. _I_ messed _him_ around. And if I'd spoken up sooner, Gina wouldn't be dead and none of us would be here in this goddamn hospital. Now, either we're still a team, and you'll get these guys to stand the fuck down until tomorrow morning, or I go back out there and do it myself. What's it gonna be?"

* * *

Before Esposito could answer one way or the other, Castle cleared his throat behind the curtain causing them both to freeze and stare guiltily at one another. Kate's eyes slammed shut in dismay and she smacked a hand to her forehead.

"Eh…guys?"

Horrified silence.

"Guy's, I'm still back here and…I can hear you. So, if you'd care to open the curtain maybe I can chip in my five cents?"

Kate glared at Esposito as if he was at fault for this lapse, this faux pas she had made, and then she spun away from him to draw back the curtain.

"Sorry, Castle. You shouldn't have had to listen to any of that. Right, Javi?" said Kate, nudging the cop with her elbow to get him to apologize too.

"Yeah, man. Sorry."

Castle waved their protests off with a broken approximation of a shrug that instantly had him wincing in pain.

"_See,_" Kate showed Esposito, holding up a hand to indicate Castle's broken arm and contorted features. "He's in no fit state to participate in an interview."

"Beckett," Castle interrupted. "You've pushed for interviews with people in far worse states that this."

But these people weren't you, thought Kate, keeping this truth to herself.

"Yeah, Beckett. These guys aren't gonna stand down for a broken arm. Not unless Castle's doc says so."

"I need to speak to that doctor," Kate reasoned, straining at the leash to get back outside.

"How about I go? Let you guys get your story straight?" offered Esposito, drawing another fiery glare from Kate.

"Story straight? Javi, he didn't _do_ anything wrong, which you would already know had you been listening in to the appropriate part of our conversation."

"Beckett…Kate, it's fine," Castle interjected. "I need to speak to them, explain my side. Might as well be now. I'm not exactly going anywhere and unless you have a copy of the _Nassau County Record_ hidden in your back pocket, I think we're all out of newspapers."

Kate studied Castle for several seconds, calculating the damage this could do if he talked without properly preparing, and then she turned to Esposito.

"Fine," she sighed, waving her hand in the direction of the hallway. "But you're doing this against my advice," Kate turned back to warn Castle.

"Understood, counselor," he lobbed back at her, winking, trying hard to brave it out. "Espo, can you ask the cops to give us five minutes and then send them in?"

"Sure thing, man," Esposito replied, pausing at the door. "And Castle, no hard feelings, bro?"

Kate bristled but managed to hold her tongue and stare at the floor while her fellow detective groveled for Castle's forgiveness. His haste to do so was on the indecent side of speedy.

"Get the nurse to bring us coffee and all's forgiven," Castle threw back, surprising Kate with this unwinnable deal and his sudden burst of humor.

"I'll see what I can do," laughed Espo.

"Don't bother. He's still nil by mouth," Kate corrected snippily, giving Castle a stern look.

"My arm is _fine_, the scans were fine, and I'm starving. A little coffee won't hurt."

"Go deal with the goons at the door and bring him back some ice chips. I'll lobby for supper later," Kate assured a pouting Castle.

"So bossy," he told Esposito, tipping his head towards Kate, who merely continued to frown at the pair of them as if they were naughty preschoolers.

* * *

Left alone once more the banter faltered. Castle's brave front crumbled as they returned to the mood of openness and mutual support they'd been engaging in right before Esposito and the Highway Patrolmen arrived to interrupt.

"How're you feeling?" asked Kate, hovering by the side of his bed this time instead of sitting in the hateful, flatulent chair. "And I mean _really_ feeling. Remember I can see right through any tough-guy crap in a second."

Castle's eyebrows shot up before he answered and even this small gesture made him wince. "Like I went ten rounds with Vladimir Klitschko."

"That good?" she sighed, taking his uninjured hand in her own and cradling it carefully. "Look, I'm sorry we were interrupted before. There's something I need to say and I want you to listen until I've finished, okay?"

Castle looked disturbed, but he nodded anyway.

"You were in no way to blame for that crash."

When he took a deep breath and opened his mouth to protest, Kate reached out and gently touched his lips with her fingertips. The gesture was spontaneous rather than thought out, merely intended to keep him silent, keep him listening to her. But its gentle intimacy had the effect of almost stopping Castle's heart. He swallowed hard, and then followed her fingers back to her side as if they were something magical when she removed them from his lips once assured he would keep listening.

"Castle, I might not know you as well as Gina did, but I know that you are one of the kindest, most generous, _gentlest_ people I have ever met. There is nothing, no matter what Gina might have said in the heat of the moment, or might have done even, that would have caused you to crash that car deliberately. You're just not that guy."

"But she's dead, Beckett. And I was at the wheel. Deliberate or not, doesn't matter."

"Rick, you're not listening to me. Whatever you say to these guys…there's no coming back from that. You understand?" she stressed earnestly.

"Are…are you asking me to _lie_?" he whispered, eyes seeking the open doorway in case someone was out there listening to them.

"What? _No!_" Kate insisted. "No, you can tell the truth. But saying something like "I killed her" to two cops is not going to play well in any interview notes or on any formal report. So I'm saying choose your words carefully, stick to the bare facts, don't offer up any needless opinions and if you're in any doubt, wait until you get out of here and can consult with your lawyer."

Castle looked worried. "You really think I need to call my lawyer?"

Kate glanced down at their hands, gave his fingers a light squeeze and then let go. "I think you were in a serious car accident and somebody died. I know the police are going to want to investigate the circumstances fully, especially if the media gets wind of who was in that car with you."

"Oh, God," groaned Castle, closing his eyes, the whole truth dawning on him for the first time.

"And who knows what kind of pressure Gina's family might be putting on the prosecutor's office looking for answers. So, we need to keep this tight, low key, facts only. Got it?" she asked gently.

Castle nodded. Any renewal of his tan complexion seemed to have been blanched away by Kate's little prep speech; he looked exhausted, almost bloodless and pretty terrified.

"You still want me to let them in? I can delay, run interference if you want? I'm sure I can argue they put it off until tomorrow."

"Will you stay with me?" he asked, worried eyes finally seeking out her face.

"I said _we_, didn't I?"

Before she could move away from the bed he reclaimed her fingers, holding her there, next to him.

"What is it? Are you okay?"

"Kate, I'm sorry…about everything."

"Castle, you don't have to—"

"No, I do. I'm sorry I tried to bully you into coming away with me. All that hard sell...the ocean, my secluded pool...seems so stupid now, so crass."

"Don't forget the fireworks, toasting marshmallows on the bonfire...and I'm pretty sure you said something about sleeping late?" she teased.

Castle wasn't up for seeing the lighter side. "But you're not that girl, Kate. You never were and I should've know that. You're...you," he shrugged, as if you could open an encyclopaedia and find an entry entirely dedicated to Kate Beckett.

Kate tipped her head to one side, giving him a tender, forgiving smile."You were persistent, Castle. You didn't bully me. And I wanted to go. I just didn't know how to tell you. I made such a show of turning you down for so long I thought you might gloat or something. And then I left it too late."

"Can we start over?"

"Let's just get through this, okay? Then we can talk."

"Is that a promise? You won't…you know…let things slip back to how they were before?"

"I don't think that's even possible."

Castle looked positively elated, until Kate added, "With Gina gone…everything's changed."

* * *

The two hightower patrolmen, plus Kate and Esposito, made the room look small. Castle's doctor had offered them a way out of the interview, since ICU wasn't really the place for such a crowded bunch of visitors and Castle was due for a move to an orthopedic ward before the day was out. But he chose to go ahead and get it over with anyway. Extra chairs were drafted in, the atmosphere was tense. Kate watched the pair like a hawk, mistrustful of both of them. The NYPD was in their territory and these guys looked like they'd come looking for a pissing match.

"Can you tell us what you remember about last night, Mr. Castle?" Office Gately asked respectfully, kicking off with this easy opener in an attempt to put the writer at ease. "In your own words."

Castle flashed a concerned look at Kate and she nodded her encouragement for him to answer. "I was heading back to the city because—"

"From where exactly?" interrupted Holt, setting Kate's teeth on edge, his pen poised theatrically over his open notebook.

"Uh…from my beach house in the Hamptons. It was about seven forty-five when we left the house and—"

"Who's we?" Officer Gately chipped in, fingertips tapping erratically against his prominent chin.

Kate glared at both men, her anger and wariness increasing by the second.

"I was with my publisher, Gina Griffin."

"The deceased," corrected Gately, needlessly.

"Your publisher? Wasn't she also your girlfriend?" asked Holt, in an asked-and-answered tone of voice.

"And your ex-wife too, I believe?" added Gately, straight-faced, the pair playing this like some bad double act.

"Is this really necessary?" Kate intervened, giving both men withering looks.

"It's fine, Beckett," Castle assured her, managing a flicker of a smile for her alone before his facial muscles protested and reverted back to grim-meet-even-grimmer.

Gately leaned forward in his chair, elbows on knees. "We're just trying to establish all the facts, detective," he informed Kate, his snake in the grass, by-the-book act pissing her off even more.

She had met guys like this over the years, plenty of them. This pair would kick out your taillight and then follow you down the road a couple of hundred yards just so they could pull you over and slap you with a ticket for a moving vehicle violation, all because they didn't like the look of your face. So she sat and she simmered and she watched every word out of everyone's mouth, Castle's included, because this little informal conversation was getting very real, very fast.

* * *

She focused on Castle as he attempted to get re-started after a deliberate series of interruptions, hesitating his way through the events of the previous night. Tensed up and with a feeling like a sinking stone in the pit of her stomach, she listened to him.

"So, uh…yeah. Gina and I were heading back to the city. It was raining pretty hard from the moment we left. The L.I.E. was heavy with traffic, there was a lot of spray on the road…"

"But you went anyway?" asked Gately. "Didn't think to put your journey off?"

"I had a plane to catch."

"I see," he nodded, eagerly adding this information to his notebook. "Where were you headed?"

"I was flying to Paris to join my mother and daughter," Castle told them, flashing Kate a slightly guilty look.

She had registered the fact that he was leaving the country without telling her when talk of the plane ticket to Paris had come up earlier. He didn't need her permission to do anything or go anywhere, but it had still stung. But now, knowing he had called the precinct and been told by Esposito that she'd already put in for a new partner, she couldn't blame him. Total fucking mess, the whole damn thing.

"And Miss Griffin? Was she going to Paris with you?" she heard Gately ask, hating the guy even more by the second.

"No. She was going back to Manhattan. I was giving her a ride as far as JFK. She planned to take a car service from there."

"So…let me get this straight. You and your girlfriend have just spent a couple of weeks at your beach house and then you're flying out to the most romantic city on earth without her?" Gately laughed, slapping his thigh and turning to grin at his partner in mock-delight.

"I think Mr. Castle already explained that he was going to France to join his mother and daughter, who were both already over there," Kate intervened, barely concealing her anger beneath the surface.

"Please, detective. We have to hear it from Mr. Castle himself," Gately warned her, his grin now more of a bare-toothed grimace.

"She…she wasn't really my girlfriend," Castle stuttered, giving Kate another apologetic, rather embarrassed look.

"She wasn't? But I thought…" Gately frowned to himself and then turned to give his partner an enquiring look. "Wasn't that your understanding, Hank?"

"Girlfriend, publisher _and_ ex-wife, I think you said earlier, Detective Beckett," corrected Holt, giving Kate a smug look as he tapped his pen against his notes.

"What does it matter?" Kate snapped. "They were in the car, traffic was heavy, there was a lot of surface spray. I think we've established all of that already."

"And you had a long haul flight to catch. Were you speeding, Mr. Castle?"

Kate dug her nails into her arm to prevent herself from punching either one or both of these men.

"No…no, I definitely wasn't speeding. Road was too busy anyway."

Kate's heart sank, thinking just answer the questions, Rick. Don't qualify or elaborate or you'll get caught filling up dead air, giving them words they can use to hang you with later.

* * *

Holt paused, studied his notebook and then looked as if he was changing tack. "Okay, can you tell us what was happening _inside_ the vehicle in the lead up to the crash?"

"Inside?"

"Yes, were you listening to music for example? Maybe using your cell phone? Talking?"

"Definitely wasn't using my cell. And no to the music as well."

"What about Miss Griffin?"

"What about her?" asked Castle, letting his gaze drift over to Kate once more, the stress in his constricted pupils telling her he was uncomfortable with the direction this was going.

"Was she sleeping, talking, singing…what?"

Castle was no fool. He could tell that these men knew more than they were letting on. He'd been in enough interrogation situations with Kate to understand how this worked. Give the guy enough rope to hang himself and bingo! Job done, confession signed, carted off to an arraignment hearing before you can say "I'd like to speak to my lawyer now".

"She—" His eyes flickered on Kate's face, a brief glimpse of an apology. "We were arguing."

"Arguing. About…?" asked Holt boldly.

"Officer Holt, I hardly think the subject of their argument is relevant here," Kate interjected, attempting to shut this uncomfortable session down.

"Arguing about what?" Holt persisted, ignoring Kate's objection. "About how fast you were driving maybe?" he goaded Castle.

"No. I already told you I wasn't speeding," Castle answered patiently, much to his credit. "Check the car's computer if you don't believe me. We were arguing about our relationship…or lack of or…end of…whatever," Castle muttered, staring down at the pale green covers on his bed.

"So…things weren't going well between you two?" Gately summed up on Castle's behalf.

Castle kept his gaze trained on the bed and merely shook his head dejectedly. Kate's heart sank as she realized he was giving in to these bullies.

"I…I made a mistake asking her to go out to the Hamptons with me. Was…rash…stupid…I—"

"When was this?"

"Do we really—" Kate interrupted, only to be interrupted in turn by Officer Gately.

"Please, Detective Beckett. I won't ask you again. Either let us conduct this interview or—"

"Wait! Interview? You said a brief chat. Is he being formally interviewed?" asked Kate, standing, ready to intervene.

"I'm sure Mr. Castle has nothing to hide," Holt cut in to placate all concerned. "Few more minutes and we should be out of your hair."

"Castle, you can stop this at any time," Kate reminded him, eyeing the two cops with renewed mistrust.

"It's fine, Beckett. I have nothing to hide."

"See. We're all good," Holt said smugly, before tearing his eyes off Kate and focusing them back on Castle. "So, you were saying you made a mistake asking your ex-wife to join you at the beach house. You guys fought and then what?"

"Sorry, just to be clear," Gately cut in, twisting the knife. "How soon after you arrived out in the Hamptons did you two start fighting?"

"Pretty much immediately. I told you, I made a mistake. Gina was jealous…"

"Jealous? Oh, of what…or should I say whom?"

Castle took a deep breath and then he dragged his gaze up off the bed to face both cops at once. "She was jealous of the close working partnership I have with Detective Beckett."

"Jealous of a coworker? That doesn't seem rational…does that seem rational to you, Frank?"

"We're more than just coworkers. More like friends…I hope?" Castle said, cutting his eyes to look at Kate who could do nothing but nod in agreement.

"And why would your…_friendship_ with Detective Beckett bother Miss Griffin so much?"

"Because she thought there was more to it."

"More? Such as? Can you give me an example?"

"She…" Castle broke off and turned to look at Kate. "Kate, I'm sorry," he uttered brokenly.

"Please just answer the question, sir," pressed Gately, while Kate squirmed, caught between ending this now and risking Castle further torment by appearing guilty and the human desire to hear what had Gina so worked up about them.

Castle had tears in his eyes when he answered. "She accused me of being in love with Detective Beckett."

* * *

At this point Esposito came to life. "Okay, fellas, that's quite enough. Either charge him or get out," he said, the legs of his chair scraping loudly against the floor as he stood, pointing forcefully towards the door.

"We can do this at the Nassau County Sherriff's Office if you prefer, Mr. Castle? We're just trying to extend a little professional courtesy to you here. Save you coming in when you're in such bad shape."

"Please, just get on with it," begged Castle, feeling the last of his energy draining away.

Kate stared at her lap; fingers knotted tightly, pain in every joint, her heart aching for him.

"Okay, let's go back to the car. Right before the accident, you admit you and Miss Griffin were arguing about the state of your relationship. What happened then? Did that argument become physical? Did you strike Miss Griffin and lose control of your vehicle?" asked Gately, his voice so light and even you'd swear he was only asking if Martha Rodgers baked a good apple pie.

"Is that what happened, Mr. Castle?" Holt added, his tone falsely sympathetic, as if they'd made their minds up already.

"No. No it is not."

"You crashed that car, Sir, killing a young woman who you admit to having fought with over a two week period."

"On and off. We didn't fight all the time and it was never physical. She was my publisher. She stayed out at the house to get away from the city, to work. She had her own bedroom, plenty of space. I wrote, she walked the beach by herself, she ate with friends. It wasn't unpleasant twenty-four-seven like you're trying to make out. We've…we'd been divorced for years and still managed to work together. This situation wasn't new to us."

"So what happened to cause that crash?"

"She got more…_upset_ the closer we got to the city."

"Why was that?"

Castle plucked at the top sheet before answering. "She thought the reason I was returning home earlier than planned was to go back to work at the Twelfth, so that I could spend more time with Detective Beckett," he admitted, his cheeks flushing red.

"Was that true?"

"True or not, what does it matter?" asked Kate, furious at the number they were doing on Castle's personal life.

"Vehicular manslaughter is a serious matter, Detective, as I'm sure you're aware."

"Vehicular—" Kate gaped at the two highway patrolmen. "Are you _kidding me?_ On what grounds?"

"Beckett—" Esposito interrupted, attempting to get her to calm down.

"No, Espo. Just shut up. Where do you get off—" She turned to look at Castle who was staring blankly at the wall. "Castle, tell them what happened. Tell them what you told me earlier."

"Gina was yelling. She kept fiddling with her grandmother's ring. It was too big for her finger and eventually she dropped it. It rolled into the footwell…she couldn't find it in the dark. She was frantic. I had a flight to catch. The weather was terrible. But she wanted me to stop by the roadside so she could look for the ring and when I refused…that's when she grabbed for the steering wheel. I…I've never seen her so…so out of control before. I tried to right the car but I couldn't…"

Castle slumped back against his pillows. "That's when we crashed."

* * *

You could have heard a pin drop. Finally, Kate got up out of her seat and drew herself up to her full height. "Okay. Enough. You've heard enough. Look at him. He shouldn't even be talking to you…state he's in. If you have anymore questions, you can call his lawyer. But we are _done_ here."

Kate glared at the two cops until the staring match was concluded when they stood as one, Detective Beckett silently declared the winner.

"Espo, get them out of here," Kate ordered testily, watching until they reached the door before she turned her back to tend to her partner.

"We'll call if there's anything else. Thanks for your cooperation, Mr. Castle," said Holt, doffing his hat in a show of mock-politeness that really was the last straw.

"Jerks," Kate hissed through gritted teeth.

"I made a mess of that. A total mess. Beckett, I'm sorry. I didn't listen when you said—"

"Hey. Hey, just stop," Kate insisted, sitting down in the hateful armchair, resting her hands flat on the side of the bed, afraid to touch him and afraid to stay away. "If they had something, they'd charge you."

"But they could still come back," Castle argued, looking off towards the door as if they might be on their way back in right now.

"Listen to me," Kate insisted, finally reaching for his hand, slowly, fingers crawling across the white sheet. "You weren't to blame for that crash. And their eyewitness testimony will bear that out. People saw Gina lunge for the steering wheel just as you said. So don't worry. It'll be fine," Kate promised, giving his fingers a squeeze before letting go and sitting back again, drained.

"Only it won't," Castle contradicted, surprising her with his dejected tone and the flat, steely vehemence in his voice. "I might get off if they declare the whole thing an accident. But Gina will still be dead. Nothing anyone says will bring her back."

Kate couldn't argue with his logic, and one look at Castle's ashen face told her there was no point in even trying; he was too exhausted to take anything in anymore.

"The doctors want to move you to a new room…up on orthopedics, I think," Kate informed him. "Your mom and Alexis will be here soon. I'll sit with you once they get you settled in, then let you get some sleep."

"No, Kate. You've done enough already. It's okay. You can go," he argued, shutting down.

"But Espo brought a change of clothes, I can beg a shower. I'll be fine. I can sleep in a chair, keep you company."

"I'd rather you left," he told her stonily.

Kate frowned. "Is this about—"

"About what?"

"What you said to Holt and Gately…about Gina? Because I feel just as guilty as you do, if that's what you're thinking. This isn't all on you, Castle. We both made stupid mistakes and other people have paid a high price, chief among them Gina Griffin."

"Beckett, I don't want to talk about this now."

"I understand. I'll just go…check on Esposito. Make sure he's not setting us up for capital murder or whatever," she muttered to herself as she stood and then headed for the door.

"I asked Javi not to tell you I called," Castle called out after her.

Kate froze on the spot and then spun around. "What? _Why?_ Why would you do that?"

Castle shrugged. "You put in for a new partner. What were you going to do with an old one?"

She sighed, though in reality she felt more like screaming. "Castle, I thought you left with her and never looked back."

He shrugged, depressed, tired and beyond any ability to feel or care. "Now isn't the time."

Kate paused for a second, considering, and then she stopped herself. "Maybe you're right. I should go. Get some sleep. Say hi to your mom and Alexis when they get here."

"Thanks for everything. For kicking ass for me," he told her, offering up a final wan smile.

Kate nodded, tears constricting her throat when she choked out, "Always," before fleeing his room.

* * *

Esposito found her out in the hallway five minutes later, a numb look on her face, though he could tell she had been crying.

"I'm sorry I accused you," she muttered, staring at the floor. "Today had been one shitty day."

"Won't argue with that," Espo nodded, smiling at one of the prettier nurses as she passed.

"I feel so bad for him. He looks so…broken."

Unqualified to comment, Esposito focused on the immediate. "Let's get you home. You look exhausted."

"I can't, Javi. I'd feel too guilty leaving him," she said, staring back along the corridor towards Castle's room.

"He's in good hands. Space might not be the worst thing right now."

"You really think so? This isn't just some new way of punishing him? Because I'm _over _the whole Hamptons thing. We were both to blame and now a woman is dead. So no more shutting him out because you're trying to stand up for me, you hear? I can fight my own battles."

Esposito held both hands up in front of him. "Wouldn't dare, boss. Now…let me drive you home."

Kate gave one final glance in the direction of Castle's room and then she nodded, torn, but feeling like she didn't have any other choice since the writer had basically asked her to leave him alone.

They made it as far as the darkened parking lot before she turned around and sprinted for the hospital entrance, an NYPD duffle bag bumping against her hip.

_TBC..._


	8. Chapter 8 - Coping

**_Chapter 8 – Coping_**

She took the stairs, too keyed up to wait for the elevator. As a result, she was hot, sweating and out of breath by the time she got back up to his floor, only to find ICU Room No.4 empty; just a gaping hole where Castle's bed used to be. Her rational brain told her they'd moved him up to Ortho as planned, but the irrational side of her brain grieved for the empty space left behind.

It was a stark, timely reminder of how empty a room (or a life) without Richard Castle in it could become if you turned your back on him for just five minutes. How full it had seemed with him there, that room. Even in a coma he had the power to animate a space, Kate thought, imagining how he'd preen and crow if she ever shared that notion with him.

Bottom line: no matter the mood, the problem, the difficulties they faced, Kate's world was always better with Richard Castle in it. She just had to find a way to accept that fact and maybe get him to accept it too.

"We lost him to Orthopedics, honey," Nurse Blossom confirmed, her round, cheery face beaming like that of a woman who had come to accept that life was filled with loss but who had also found a positive, graceful way to deal with that loss whenever it darkened her door. "Sweetheart of a man," she sighed, tearing her large, chocolate drop eyes away from the empty space to give Kate a knowing smile. "You'll find him up on five," she added, patting Kate's arm before sashaying off, her hips swinging from side to side with rhythm and attitude as she disappeared down the hall.

* * *

His door was open, the bed lodged on the opposite side of the room from downstairs. The curtains at the window and around the bed were tipped with cornflower blue this time, tiny sprigs of the same color littering the curtain fabric itself with a multitude of speckles, the pattern repeated over and over again to infinity, the kind of thing you could lose whole hours to counting if you were so inclined.

She was studying the covers on his bed from behind the safety of the open door – his long toes poking up towards the ceiling, same crisp white undersheet pulled tight across his lap, the cover on top a shade of blue she was still searching to name when his voice, flattened by the poor acoustics and the underlying weight of grief, broke her train of thought.

"Where's Esposito?"

"Sent him home."

She took a step into the room, appearing to him from behind the screening shelter of the door. He must have seen her through the narrow slit on the hinged side. Or maybe he just sensed that she was there. He could do that – feel her presence. He knew so much about her it felt like destiny some days.

"I thought he was your ride?"

"I sent him home. You're stuck with me," she informed him, bravely, dumping the bag Javi had brought for her to the hospital at her feet, the dull thud acting as punctuation: discussion over.

Castle regarded her for a second. Cool eyes checking her over. Had it been her in that bed she'd have thrown him out by now most likely. She never stood for her orders (or requests) being disobeyed. But this was Castle. Forgiveness was hardwired into his DNA. So he tolerated her presence for now at least, gaining the upper hand by making her feel uneasy under his unveiled scrutiny - too open for her liking, despite the earlier progress she believed they had made with their attempts to communicate more honestly.

"Got any snacks in there?" he finally asked, gaze lingering on the duffle bag lying slouched at her feet like a sleeping dog.

"Is that the price of admission?"

Castle shrugged, looking too down to play games. "I'm hungry."

"Me too," said Kate, lifting his chart off the bottom of the bed to study it, fingers tripping lightly along the metal rail before she claimed it in both hands.

"You understand that stuff?" he asked, watching her scan the top sheet, lips moving as she read the words in silence, before flipping the page to study the sheet below.

Kate lifted her gaze up to meet his face and then dropped her eyes level with the chart once more, affecting knowledgable, brusque and efficient. "Urine output looks good…"

"Jeez, Beckett," hissed Castle, tugging the covers higher over his stomach, cheeks flushing a little, if that wasn't the wrong word to describe his blush given the subject under discussion.

"Hm," she hummed, her brow creased into a frown as she tapped the clipboard with her short nails.

"What is it?" he asked, sounding instantly alarmed. "What have they written about me?"

His face morphed into a patchwork of concern: eyes widening, mouth a grim line, everything flattening out in anticipation of bad news.

Always the narcissist. To say nothing of the Twelfth Precinct's resident drama queen.

Kate bit her lip. "Heart rate's a little tacky at 100 beats per minute, but—" She stopped reading, couldn't carry on anymore. Her face broke into a naughty grin as she hooked the chart back on to the bottom of his bed. "Nah, I have no idea."

"Wait. You—" He gaped at her. "Did you just _punk_ the sick guy?"

"Meh," she shrugged, walking her fingers along the metal bed rail. "Cheered you up a little, didn't it?"

But he was more distracted than cheered, in truth, and he quickly reverted back to silence; the kind of busy silence that said there was a lot going on inside his head, even if nothing was showing on the outside.

"Did they say anything about food?" Kate asked, walking to the window to inspect the change of view from this new room on a higher floor.

"I don't think we get to order room service, if that's what you mean," he fired back, a sullen bite to his tone.

"Damn, I was hoping for the lobster…maybe a bottle of Champagne," joked Kate, spinning around to lean against the ledge and look at him, her arms crossed protectively over her chest.

"Why did you come back, Beckett?"

Kate studied Castle for a second: the stiff jaw, the pale complexion that would have made you think he'd been in here for a week and not for just one night, the purple bruising down the left side of his face where his head had made brutal contact with the windshield or the door frame or…she couldn't bear to think what else. Then she took a seat in the duck egg blue chair by his bed, the same gassy sound issuing from the deflating cushion as it fully absorbed her weight.

"I didn't want to think of you spending the night in here alone."

He kept his eyes trained on the bed when he responded, facial muscles tight, as if he was trying to hold himself together while he pushed _her_ to see if she would break. "I'm in hospital. People do it all the time."

Kate nodded. "True. But why go it alone if you don't have to? Besides," she added, before he could interrupt again, "I wouldn't want Martha and Alexis arriving tomorrow to find you stuck in here by yourself."

"So this is about image? About how people see us, as usual?" he asked, attempting, badly, to goad her into leaving or fighting with him, she wasn't quite sure which.

Kate sighed, focusing on staying patient (with the patient) as long as she could. "No, I was just trying to do something nice for you for once…given my track record," she added, in a muttered tone. "And to make your family feel less guilty when they get here."

She let her hands fall to her thighs, slapping her palms on the taut surface of jean-clad muscle with some kind of finality, and then she stood. "But tell yourself whatever makes you happiest, Castle," she advised flatly, heading for the door.

"Where are you going?" He managed to reveal his need for her in both the question and his tone of voice when he halted her at the entrance to his room with this enquiry.

"Hunting," she replied cryptically, not even bothering to look round before she exited the room, leaving him to his own devices.

* * *

When she finally returned a good twenty minutes later, he had his head turned away towards the window, eyes blank and unseeing despite the glittering display of light set against a rich, velvet, night sky outside.

"Mac 'n' cheese was the best looking thing on offer. And I mean _the best_," she stressed, breezing into the room with a large tray.

Two child size cartons of milk flanked their covered plates like sentries. A large apple - a Kelly green one that had been cut into slices and was now going slightly brown around the edges - lay elaborately fanned out around the bottom of an orange plastic dish. A trio of hulled strawberries and a handful of blueberries were carefully arranged in the center of this fruitarian tableau, completing the pretty picture.

"What is that?" he asked, peering down at the tray as she carefully slid it onto the over bed table.

"You have an admirer in the kitchen. Peggy Erickson. She said to say hi. Loves your work."

"Peggy who?"

"Erickson. The apple's from her," Kate explained, setting the plastic container down in front of him. "An apple for the teacher," she said to herself as she rounded up the cutlery and napkins she had stashed in one corner of the tray to prevent them rolling around.

Once everything was laid out she finally looked up at him, her hands on her slim hips, and let out a satisfied breath. "There. Now we can eat."

Castle eyed the slightly congealing pasta with suspicion until Kate stabbed some macaroni with a fork and held it close to his mouth.

"Gonna make airplane noises too?" he asked, giving her a withering look.

"Eat. Or I will feed you myself," she commanded. "And if you force me to do that, there is no way Ryan and Espo won't be hearing about it," she threatened, backing off with satisfaction when Castle snatched the fork from her hand and fed the pasta to himself.

"Am I even allowed this?" he asked, savoring the tasty, cheesy morsel in spite of his earlier reluctance.

"Since when did you look for permission to do anything?" she scoffed, demolishing her own pasta like it was her last meal.

"Good point."

"Now…shush and eat."

* * *

The room was silent for the next several minutes, save for the quiet sound of two hungry people masticating.

"I cleared it with your doctor," Kate admitted at length, watching Castle handle his fork like a Neanderthal in his haste to inhale his dinner. Her eyes widened. "Just…for God's sake don't choke. I had to vouch for you…as a grown-up, Castle. Chew every bite."

"Yes, mom," he scoffed, shoveling food so fast several macaroni pieces trembled and then fell off his fork in shock.

"Shut up."

Once they were done, she cleared the debris from their meal, making sure he shared his wrinkly apple with her just to make him laugh when she fought him for the last, paper thin, falcate slice.

"Goodnight moon," she said, popping the crescent of apple into her mouth with her usual delicacy.

Castle looked off towards the window once more, his face serious. "Alexis loved that book. I used to recite it to myself in bed when I couldn't sleep."

Her head snapped up and she stared at him, a balled up paper napkin in her hand. "Aloud?"

He shook his head, finally turning to look at her. "In my head…after…after Meredith left," he admitted, cheeks turning slightly pink with humiliation at this unfiltered confession.

"Ah. Sorry," she offered, looking down at her hands, woven into a nest in her lap around the crumpled napkin. "As good as counting sheep, I guess."

"Don't be sorry. Things happen for a reason."

Gina? That was the logical reason for the demise of his marriage to Meredith? Just as Alexis was the reason for his first ex-wife's appearance in his life? And if that was the case, if that's how life played out for him, what did Gina's disappearance from the picture mean? A chance for Kate?

Whatever the truth, whatever Castle's thoughts or reasoning on the subject, she stepped back from asking what he meant, content to leave that an unsolved mystery for now.

* * *

"Think I'll stretch my legs for a bit. Why don't you try to get some sleep?"

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Where will you sleep?"

His concern for her was touching, meant more than it maybe should, but given his condition, his mood, she'd take it. She'd take any and every sign that he cared so that she could work those moments together with her own, hoard them, stash them away for leaner times to look back on when her resolve to mend them wavered, when her courage was thin on the ground.

"There's a cot," she said, thumbing over her shoulder towards the hall. He stared, frowning. "I…I mean I've been promised a cot in the nurses' break room. Give you peace…privacy," she shrugged, suddenly feeling awkward, since this entire situation was new for them: intimate, messy and emotional.

"Beckett, you don't have to do that."

"I know. But I want to." She crossed her arms and clenched her fingers into fists beneath her elbows, knotted up tight. "Castle, this is hard for me…" she admitted. "Please don't make it harder."

"If it's so hard, don't do it." He looked put out, resentful or maybe it was hurt, unsure. She found him hard to read today.

"What if I want to? What if it's worth it? Hmm?" she asked, squeezing her fists even tighter, trying to be brave.

He scowled at her instead of answering her question. "My head hurts."

"I'll get a nurse."

"I just need to sleep."

"Fine. I'm going. Press the buzzer if—"

"If I need anything. Yeah, got it." His words were delivered with a burst of frustration that latterly merged into a softer framing, both of tone and feature. It was as if he was being pixilated or airbrushed before her eyes.

"Night, Castle."

She backed away, boots scuffing dryly against the shiny floor.

"G'night, Kate."

* * *

She paced the halls on his floor, walking in a loop, stopping to stare out of the windows at all four corners of the building from time to time. Her hands cupped to the glass around her eyes, she imagined where people were going when red taillights streaked past in the dark and what they might be doing when they got there, all to stop her thinking about where _she_ was, how _he_ was, and what might be next for them, if anything at all.

When she finally got bored and a little dizzy with this circuit - half expecting to meet herself coming around the next corner - she rode the elevator all the way up to the rooftop. The night was warm, the air indistinguishable from her own skin when she rolled up the sleeves of her shirt and abandoned her jacket to a low wall. She felt calm, the light breeze stirred her hair and her shoulders dropped for the first time in over two weeks.

A couple of minutes later and she was bowed over the guardrail, her head resting on the backs of her hands as she let the tears come, breathing heavily, feeling scared and wretched, exhausted and out of control, until her crying jag was sated and the tears finally stopped.

"Lovely night," said a voice nearby that made her jerk upright, instantly on her guard, turning towards the source of the sound with her muscles taut like the well-trained cop she was.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," said the tall, dark-haired stranger standing several meters away in the dark. "I'm Josh, by the way."

He held out his hand.

"Kate," she replied, finally moving closer to shake the proffered hand.

It was a firm, dry handshake that spoke of authority and confidence; authority that was backed up by a spotless, white doctor's coat and a hospital I.D. badge.

"Didn't mean to intrude."

"You weren't."

"Only I come up here every night."

"You work here…obviously," she added, feeling stupid for even asking the question.

"Cardiology. I come up here when I need a breather."

"Right," Kate nodded, gnawing on her lip, checking the ground for what she wasn't sure.

"What about you? What brings you here so late at night, Kate?"

"I…"

Where to even begin? There's this guy lying in a bed downstairs and he was my partner. He got in a car accident caused by his ex-wife, who was also his sort-of girlfriend at the time, oh, as well as his publisher, and I think I might be falling in love with him, and—

_Fuck!_

"Just visiting," she managed to extract from the spaghetti jumble of confused, messy thoughts inside her brain.

"I couldn't help but notice you were crying when I got here," the cardiologist said, though not unkindly.

"Are you _always_ this nosy?" snapped Kate, instantly regretting losing control in front of this handsome stranger. "I…I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"It's fine. Been a stressful day?"

"Yes, but that's no excuse. I'm ruining your break…intruding on your rooftop…"

Josh laughed. "Rooftop's anyone's for the enjoying. If you can find your way up here…I mean, just look at that view," he said, relaxed, easy, utterly unoffended by the behavior of this beautiful woman, as he swept his arm wide to encompass the night sky and all that New Hyde Park had to offer.

"Still…I should probably…go," she said, backing away from the edge and the cardiac surgeon with the calm, penetrating gaze. "Check on my partner."

"Ah…partner," nodded Josh, allowing himself a secret smile, almost as if he expected this blow. "Should have known. Attractive woman like you."

"Known?" Kate frowned. "Known what?"

"I'm sorry. Forget I said anything."

"No, please. What were you going to say?"

"I was going to ask for your number, but…"

"Right. I see." Kate felt herself blushing, followed by a rush of pleasure at being the focus of interest of this attractive man, the unexpected sensation bolstering her shredded sense of self.

"But your partner's downstairs so…"

Less than twenty-four hours ago, Kate would have jumped at the chance to give this guy her number. He was good looking, intelligent, he had a job that gave back, saved lives…_and_ he wasn't Richard Castle.

But now, twenty-four hours on, he simply wasn't Richard Castle.

"Yes, he is," she nodded, backing away towards the door. "Nice meeting you, Josh. Have a good evening."

"Likewise, Kate. I'm sure everything will work out," he called after her.

She turned back. "Hm?"

"With your partner."

"Oh…oh, right. Yeah. Thanks," she said, finally turning away and fleeing for the stairs.

_TBC..._


	9. Chapter 9 - Regret

_A/N: "Thick head" is for Jules, if you can spot it. ;)_

* * *

**_Chapter 9 – Regret_**

When Kate returned to Castle's floor, she checked in on him, expecting to wish him goodnight once more maybe, and then head straight to the nurses' break room and a cot in the corner for a few hours rest if she was lucky. Instead, she found him already asleep, and a bed set up for her along the window side of his room. A pair of blue surgical scrubs – cotton shirt and bottoms just like pajamas – lay folded on top of the sheets.

A new nurse, one she didn't recognize - her badge said "Claudette" - appeared at her elbow as she stood at the entrance to his room staring at the scene: his 'n' her beds, set up almost side-by-side. "He made a special request," the nurse informed Kate, her manner warm, conspiratorial even, as if sharing some juicy piece of gossip. "He is _sweet_ on you. _Mm-hmm_," she hummed, throwing Kate a playful grin.

Kate whipped her head around to look at her. "Excuse me? He…he made a special request to have a bed put in there for me?" she whispered, glancing back at the readymade bed: prima facie evidence of the slumber party Castle expected them to have.

The nurse nodded, a dreamy smile on her lips. "He's quite persuasive when he wants to be," she mused, the smile turning besotted as they both watched Castle sleep, heads tilted over to one side.

"That he can be," Kate agreed, allowing her heart to soften, to let the good times in: all the times he had persuaded her of someone's innocence or guilt, of her own strength and courage, of his honesty and integrity, his kindness and loyalty. Of the possibility for goodness in the world.

"Also heard there's a hefty donation on its way to the hospital's preemie fund," the nurse added, crossing her arms over her chest and flaring out one hip as she lounged up against the wall. Her plastic soled shoes squeaked when she pivoted her foot on the polished lino.

Kate faltered out of her own head. "Pardon me?"

"They've been raising money for new equipment in the NICU. Mr. Castle offered to help out."

An old, deep-rooted trickle of something, something not nice, ran down Kate's spine; a memory of him assuming he could buy his way into just about anything, including her mother's case, with the considerable weight of his finances behind him. She attempted to quell the part of her that was irked by news of his donation. Just like him to be so generous, she attempted to think instead. But a bed in his room so that they could sleep near one another? Seemed odd given how distant he'd been with her following the police interrogation.

* * *

Eventually the nurse left her to her own devices. So Kate took the set of scrubs into the small bathroom adjoining Castle's room and she changed for the night. She was bone-deep exhausted by the on-call shift the night before, morphing as it had into this hellish day of personal horror and revelation. Her plan to move on from Castle had been in full flow until it had been derailed at a stroke, only not by the thing she might have expected to kill her resolve: the writer showing up at the precinct asking to be her partner again. That's what she had assumed might make her crumble. _That_ she half expected. But, no, _this_ was different. This was way worse.

To see him hurt and in hospital was utterly unnerving. It reinforced for her yet again - in the terrible, final way of her mother's death, along with all the strangers' lives she had seen changed forever through her work in the Homicide Unit - that life was precious and precarious. Like a filament in a light bulb, that fine strand of tungsten wire through which electricity flowed until it glowed, giving off enough luminosity to light up a room; that was life. And like that fine filament, whether in a vacuum or surrounded by inert gas, life was uncertain too: skin, flesh and bone vulnerable to knocks, impacts, illness, accidents, the evil perpetrated by others or the harm delivered by a man's own hand. Humans were defenseless against misadventures of all kinds. Sometimes she wondered how she and her team made it through a shift with nothing worse than a bruised set of knuckles or a black eye.

Richard Castle was too big a man, in terms of his presence alone, too vital, too full of life and spirit, heart and character, to be snuffed out without a thought. There could not be a world without him in it, whether they were together or not, working cases or just existing in the same city with new paths that never crossed…he would always be there. At least that was what Kate had believed until today. So the accident had shaken her to her very foundations, showing her that Castle was just as susceptible, just as exposed as everyone else. His bones could break too, his flesh would bruise and damage as badly as the next man's. Money offered little protection, though it did help. But rich or not, he was still a mortal soul, and she should treat him as such: cherish, value, hold close and protect if she wanted a world with him in it, whether they ended up together or apart.

* * *

With these thoughts in mind she reentered his room. Quiet as a thief she stashed her clothes on top of the chair, which now sat in the corner, and then she tiptoed over to fold down the top sheet on her bed. Tight hospital corners made the job tricky without puffing and panting or making too much noise, but finally she wrestled enough bedding free to slip inside and lie down.

When she rolled over onto her side she found a pair of familiar blue eyes staring at her out of the semi darkness, and all earlier thoughts about cherishing and kindness flew out the window given how freaked out this sight suddenly made her. They were on the same level, more or less, and the sensation of lying in a matching bed next to Castle's, after she'd just spent two weeks washing him out of her life, tripped a nerve.

She sat up abruptly to stare at him, the tight sheets straining across her lower legs,. "Why didn't you ask me first?" she demanded.

Castle seemed unfazed. "Ask you what?"

"Castle, you _bought _me a bed in your hospital room?" Her tone was accusatory, irritated, maybe even slightly embarrassed.

"You don't like sleepovers?" he joked, immediately suggesting, "Look, if you're uncomfortable being roomies, you can always move out into the hall. And I didn't exactly _buy_ the bed. We have to leave it behind when I get discharged," he argued, infuriating her further.

Kate crossed her arms defensively. "Not the point I was making."

"Then what is? Because I was kind of hoping to get some sleep."

Kate balked at his casual attitude, too far down the road to back down, though she could see her argument for the fool's errand it clearly was. "My point? My point is that you _paid_ for me to…to be _comfortable._ Why would you do that?" she demanded, sounding utterly ridiculous even to her own ears, railing against something, though definitely unclear what.

It seemed Castle was just as muddled as Kate.

"To be clear, are you objecting to the money or the comfort? Which is it?"

She took a deep breath, utterly exhausted, confused in ways she'd never felt confused before and way over-the-line emotional to boot. "You asked me to leave, Castle. With Esposito. You wanted me to leave. Hell, and that was _after_ you told two cops, _in front_ of Esposito, that Gina believed you were in love with me. And then you asked me to leave. Who does that?"

It all came out. Every last burning emotional spark lit by her flint, the earth around them tinder dry. There was a serious risk there would be no quenching the fire that ensued. If Kate wasn't careful, it would consume them both.

Castle remained the calmer of the two. "Beckett, what do you want me to say?" he asked, shifting his head on the pillow so that he could see her face more clearly.

His question made her freeze. It was the dose of cold water tonight needed.

"I…I—" She floundered helplessly.

What did she want him to say? That Gina was right – he was in love with her?

He gave her a look, more eyebrows than anything else, the nonverbal equivalent of: _"Well?",_ and since she had no answer, she thumped her pillow in frustration and turned away.

"Go to sleep, Castle," she muttered, pounding on the poor pillow to reshape it as if it was somehow at fault; some lifeless object she could at last have mastery over.

He closed his eyes, but then she bolted upright again, still simmering. "I would have been fine on the cot in the break room," she threw at him. "Not like I haven't slept in worse places before. Couch in the precinct has more sharp springs than…than Perlmutter has loose screws."

Her comparison wasn't perfect, but Castle actually laughed at the remark: a chuckle that forced Kate's cheeks up into a surprised smile too. She lay back down, looking up at the ceiling, then she smacked her forehead with the heel of her hand and sighed.

"Look, I'm…exhausted. Ignore me," she told him contritely, rolling back over so that she could see his face. "Thanks for the bed. You must have a lot on your mind. I'm not helping. I'm sorry."

His response didn't encourage her, it just…was.

"Get some sleep, Beckett. Everything else can wait."

"Yeah," she agreed, feeling deflated. Castle was usually so quick to capitulate to her moods, to apologize, even when he wasn't strictly the one at fault. He didn't do that this time, and it hinted at how bad her behavior must have seemed to him.

"Night?" she ended feebly, her voice thin and dried out in the near dark of his overheated room.

When no reply came, only then did she realize that Castle had already closed his eyes and drifted off.

* * *

She slept until just before six, waking feeling achy but much more refreshed. The sun was up, and when she rolled over to check on him, Castle's bed was banded with pastel stripes down one side where the light fell gently through the blinds, warming the sheets.

She managed to take a quick shower in his bathroom, finger comb her damp hair into some kind of shape and change into the fresh set of clothes Esposito had brought for her, all before anyone appeared to wake the patient.

He looked rough when he finally came round, blinking moleishly at her, his mouth parched and his jaw darkened by two days worth of growth.

"Morning. Sleep well?" asked Kate, watching with a wince of her own as he struggled to get comfortable, the aches and pains from the crash really hitting hard now he was over twenty-fours hours in to his recuperation and the drugs had worn off overnight.

He grunted something approximating a greeting at her, squirming uncomfortably beneath the sheets.

"How about I get you a nurse and give you some privacy to get…settled," she offered, his evident discomfort translating into an awkwardness shared by Kate.

He merely nodded at her suggestion, breaking into a bout of coughing when she turned away to leave the room.

"Thanks," he rasped after her, resulting in a quick, grateful wave from Kate as she fled out into the hall.

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, Castle freshly washed and changed, though not shaved she was rather pleased to see, and they sat in his room eating breakfast together.

"So…who d'you have to bribe on the hospital board to get me this oatmeal, Castle?" Kate teased. "I mean just how high up does this conspiracy go?"

But Castle was having none of it, about as unamused as she'd ever seen him. "Can you get me my phone?" he asked, changing subject with no attempt at deftness or subtlety.

Kate popped a blueberry into her mouth. "You need to call someone?"

It wasn't the answer Castle was hoping for evidently. "I just need my phone. Do you know where it is?"

"Yeah, I asked the boys to take it back to the precinct to see if Tech could fix it."

"The precinct?"

"Mm," she hummed, licking a honey-slicked fingertip. "We were trying to track down your mom and Alexis at the time."

Castle nodded. "Then could you call Black Pawn for me? Ask them to get Paula to give me a call?"

"I can call Paula if you need—"

"I'm not an invalid, Beckett," he snapped, cutting her offer dead.

Kate's spine stiffed and she stared him down. "Actually, you are," she said quietly, calmly. "You have a badly broken arm, you're all banged up, your head is—"

"Fine," he huffed, letting his fork clatter noisily against the side of the plate. "You want to organize Gina's funeral…be my guest," he snapped, stiffening with pain when he tried to turned away from her and found that he couldn't.

Kate gave him a look of sympathy that he failed to register because he was too busy staring down at his useless, broken arm.

"I _hate_ this."

He delivered these words along with an exhausted exhale of breath, his chest growing concave as she watched him visibly slump against his pillows. His expression was one of misery, stress falling on the robust and repugnant word _hate_, four letters that were entirely capable of bearing its weight if any word was.

Kate reached out to touch his toes, pointing ceiling-ward again beneath the covers. "I know you do," she quietly commiserated with him. "Sucks being stuck in hospital when you just want to go home to your own bed. But Martha and Alexis will be here soon. Then maybe the doctors will look at discharging you, since you'll have help."

Silence filled up the room, forming a barrier between them, and Kate watched and waited for the next burst of anger and frustration or guilt and grief she had come to expect. What happened next wasn't what she was expecting from him at all.

Castle clutched at the sheet with the fingers of his good hand, gnawing on his lip before he spoke. "There was blood in my…in my urine," he admitted, dragging his eyes up off the bed to look at her, shamefaced as if he'd done something wrong; like a puppy who'd just soiled the rug.

Kate wasn't quite prepared for this news, this subject change, but if they were destined to be this intimate while he was in here, and it seemed that they were…

"Maybe you have an infection," she suggested, referring to the catheter he still had in place with a quick, vague gesture of her hand towards the side of the bed where the collection bag hung. "Happens. Did they send a sample off for testing?"

Castle nodded, misery and embarrassment keeping him company. "I actually hope it's an infection. Doctor said it's possible I damaged a kidney in the crash. Blunt renal trauma I think he called it."

"Oh."

There would be no quick end to this, Kate suddenly realized, grasping that fact explicitly for the first time. He wouldn't just get out of hospital, go home and recuperate and then quickly move on. The mental scars from this would last a long time, and by that she meant Gina. Gina would stand between them no matter who did what; a specter hovering over them, not quite in the league of Kyra Blaine, but elevated to a close second by the manner of her disappearance from his life. How could she compete with these lost loves? Even Meredith had left him, and that was a font he frequently drank from even after Kate came on the scene, and _oh, God_, she needed to wipe her mind clear of that analogy and its accompanying images.

"Yeah. So a UTI would be the lesser of two evils right now," she heard Castle say.

"When will you know?"

"Later today, I think. They said the lab could dip the sample pretty quickly. They'll put me on antibiotics if that's the case."

"Are you worried?"

He looked worried. He looked shocked and drawn, his complexion far too pale for summer, the lines around his mouth deepened, his skin slacker along his jawline though she couldn't fathom how. And that's before you got to the deep bruising down one side of his face, the slight swelling on the cheekbone immediately below his left eye that reminded her of a boxer she'd once seen go all the way during an NYPD bout at Bed-Sty Boxing in Brooklyn. Her fingers itched to soothe his face, to comb through his scalp and watch his eyes drift closed under her touch. But they were miles away from being that, from doing that, so she stuck to offering all the verbal support she could.

"You look worried," she admitted for once, just saying it out loud instead of keeping the thought knotted up tight in her chest, giving him an opening to talk to her if he wanted.

"I'm—" He paused, covering his face with his hand for a moment. "Kate, I'm exhausted," he admitted, his voice unsteady as his eyes suddenly filled with tears. "I'm _so_ tired and I've never felt so guilty in my life. My head is full of this…this _sickness_ and I can't even remember half of it happening." He choked out the words as fat tears plummeted down his cheeks.

Kate sank down onto the edge of the bed, quiet as anything, and then she offered him her hand. He laid his palm on top of hers and she closed her fingers around it. Watching him cry silently in front of her, knowing he trusted her so completely, was one of her proudest moments yet.

"You can't remember the crash?"

"I remember the arguing, the rain. I remember her insisting that I pull over and maybe her arm stretching out towards me…but after that it's mostly blank."

"You know it might come back in time," she suggested by way of comfort, though whether remembering how you crashed your car resulting in the death of your ex-wife was a good thing. "And even if it doesn't," she hurried to add," there are witnesses to the crash, Castle. Other people who saw what happened. So if you're worried about the cops—"

* * *

A knock on the doorframe interrupted her point. They looked up at the same moment, heads moving in sync just like old times. Standing in the doorway, framed by the artificial light from the hallway like a halo around his head, was the doctor she'd met on the rooftop the night before: same white coat, the name Dr. Josh Davidson printed on the photo I.D. that hung from a green lanyard around his neck.

"Hi," he said softly, eyes locking with Kate's like a pair of magnets snapping together.

"Hi," replied Kate, smiling back, tucking her hair behind her ear so self-consciously, feeling sleep rumpled and grubby from a day and night spent in Castle's airless hospital room, despite her shower and a change of clothes.

Castle watched the pair of them, the exchange too slow to ape a tennis match, or ping pong, or even badminton. But it aped something that was for sure.

"You left this…up on the roof last night," he said, glancing between Kate and Castle before he handed her the jacket.

"Hey," he added, raising his chin in casual, off-hand gesture of greeting to acknowledge Castle's presence in the room for the first time.

"Thanks." Kate fiddled with a loose button on the cuff as she held the jacket against her chest while Castle merely stared.

An awkward, stalemate of a silence descended on the room, leaving the air ripe with tension.

Josh turned his back on Castle to focus on Kate when he said, "Right, well…I'm almost off shift. Nearly time to head back to the city."

Kate's interest perked up at this nugget of information. "You're heading back to Manhattan?"

"Yeah. Did...did you need a ride?" The doctor asked the question too eagerly, knowing full well that this woman's partner sat watching them from his sick bed, misunderstanding the term partner the previous night to mean "life partner" as he had. So his motivation was predatory, his gaze heated and carelessly amused, his haste to get her alone was indecent and disrespectful in the extreme there was no doubt. But then he was on his own territory here, a cardiac surgeon no less, beloved by nurses and patients alike; cock of the walk.

Kate turned to look at Castle, temptation written into the open curve of her mouth, the question hovering on her lips. It was an honest temptation that he instantly misread. She needed to go back to the city, Castle's family would be here anytime, she felt as if a little space between them might not be the worst thing in the world at this point in time, and she needed to change her clothes before she could go back into work.

"Go ahead," he said sullenly, feigning indifference, the openness of just minutes ago shut up tight like a clam. He looked far away all of a sudden, lost to her.

"I have an extra helmet if you're interested. She'd be perfectly safe riding with me," Josh said, turning to aim this last assurance at Castle, as if the slightly older man propped up in bed was her father (and he was a prospective prom date) rather than what he believed them to be to one another, which was a couple.

"What bike do you have?" asked Kate, drawing a scowl from Castle that she missed entirely.

"Harley."

"Yeah, well, with a name like Davidson that's kind of a given. Would be rude not to," she joked, having checked out his hospital badge. For Castle's money she looked as if she was flirting with the guy. "I meant what model?"

"883 Roadster. You know motorbikes?"

"I have a '94 Harley Softail."

"Nice!" Josh rushed to compliment her, his absorption in the young detective total, to the exclusion of all else.

"Look, I hate to break up this little HOG convention," Castle cut in, "but I'm kinda tired. Maybe you could take your motorcycle love-in elsewhere?"

Kate looked mortified, but Dr. Davidson remained as cool and unaffected as an ACE cold compress.

He backed away towards the door, talking to Kate all the while. "I'll be finishing up surgical rounds and leaving here in about…" He checked his large, sporty looking watch. "I should be done in an hour. Come find me if you change your mind."

* * *

Once he was gone, Kate gave Castle a sharp look and then she took a seat on her unmade bed by the window, unsure what to do or say next.

Castle couldn't help himself. "Who's your friend?"

"No one."

"Didn't seem like no one."

She sighed. "I went up on the roof last night to get some air…to think. He appeared while I was up there. That's it. No big story."

"Figures you'd meets a handsome surgeon while I'm laid up here, peeing into a plastic bag."

Kate stared at Castle, appalled. "Okay, you just need to stop with the self pity. He wanted my number. I turned him down."

"Why?" Castle asked flatly.

Kate stared at him, her heart picking up rhythm, stomach churning. "_Why?_"

"Yeah. What's stopping you, Beckett? Go get a ride home with Dr. Motorcycle Boy. At least he has two functioning arms."

_Beckett. _They were back to that again.

She had slept in his room last night at his bequest. Hell, she had helped him blow his nose, she had wiped up his goddamn vomit and fed him ice chips off a spoon. What was wrong with him? When would he get it through his thick head?

But before Kate could get stuck in to setting him straight on exactly how and why she turned Dr. Josh Davidson down, there was a commotion at the door and then a shockingly bright head of hair popped itself around the doorjamb.

"Hello, darlings. I hope we're not interrupting anything?" Martha sang, looking gleeful at the thought that they were indeed interrupting some private moment between the writer and his lady detective.

"No, Beckett was just leaving," Castle replied sourly.

"Richard!" his mother scolded, giving him a sharp, silencing look.

Kate held up her hands to calm things down. "Martha, it's fine. Castle's right. I should go. I'm glad you got home safely."

Martha approached, grasping Kate by the shoulders, her expression motherly and full of gratitude. "Thanks to you, darling. The police siren was a godsend. And so exciting!"

"Where's Alexis?" Castle cut in, ignoring Kate completely now.

"She was right behind…ah, her she is!" exclaimed Martha as the younger of the two redheads flew around the corner exclaiming, "Daddy!" as she ran towards his bed.

Kate used the commotion to edge towards the door, her duffle bag already packed and sitting on a chair. She watched the reunion scene for a moment – listened to exclamations over Castle's pinned arm, his bruises, questions about the hospital food and a smattering of showy French from Junior Castle – before she shouldered her bag, grabbed her jacket and headed out into the hall.

She caught the flicker of recognition Castle sent her way without meaning to, before his jaw hardened and he turned fake smiles on his family. But she saw the dimming of his eyes through the window at her sudden departure - too proud to thank her for her help and support or to stop her from leaving, and too scared to ask her to stay.

She called a cab from the phone downstairs, waiting outside in the sunshine, feeling as if she hadn't been out of doors for weeks. The sun warmed her face and she closed her eyes, trying to breath steadily against the heavy weight in her chest. It felt as if nothing would dislodge the tourniquet around her heart.

* * *

Dr. Josh Davidson came calling for her again around an hour later, tapping on Castle's door with a nerve that gave the writer a sudden blinding headache. But Kate was already long gone by then. This last piece of knowledge was one Castle tucked away with grateful satisfaction, after he enjoyed the heck out of informing the smug, suave-looking doctor that she had already left without him.

That she had turned the surgeon down after all, true to her word, made him feel hopeful inside. Had he given her the opportunity to explain why she had ignored Josh Davidson's advances, his sense of satisfaction might have been even greater still. As it was, he spent a long night alone, the space below the window just an empty space again, Kate's bed for the night removed at his request. Long hours to think, to wonder, to regret so many things. And some things there was just no denying. He missed her and he needed to find a way to put things right. He hoped she'd listen if he tried.

TBC...


	10. Chapter 10 - Mourning

_A/N: I just wanted to point out a few things about the last couple of chapters, since Josh Davidson is clearly a very polarizing character. In my view, and since I wrote it I guess I get first dibs on opinion, Kate wasn't flirting with Josh at all. She clearly turned him down when he asked for her number on the rooftop, she didn't correct him when it was clear he made an assumption that she and Castle were a couple (even though she's single and Castle is trying to push her away), and when she talked to him about his motorbike and hers, she was merely an enthusiast discussing one of her few pleasures in life with a fellow Harley owner. That's not flirting, in case you're unclear what flirting is or you're still too young to know. That's just a man and a woman having a conversation._

_Castle, on the other hand, has flirted with most every attractive woman to come on the show...in front of Beckett. A few reviewers called her "uncaring" or "unkind" or frankly worse, for supposedly flirting with the doctor in front of Castle while he lay in a hospital bed. She was looking for a ride back to the city, a practical solution to a problem, nothing more. And as for uncaring, she spent the night in his room, company which grown adults only get if they are on their deathbeds. She wiped up his vomit, blew his nose for him and listened to his woes over Gina's death, despite the fact that as soon as she turned him down for that trip to the Hamptons, he replaced her with his ex-wife because he simply couldn't stand to be without female company for even one weekend. To an outsider, it looks like any woman will do for him - Beckett or Gina - he really wasn't that fussy. They were interchangeable._

_Can I also remind everyone that this fic takes place at the end of Season 2, so for me the sentiment coming across in some reviews that she should be head over heels in love with him and telling him at this juncture in the story is way premature. She got to the point of agreeing to go away for Memorial Day Weekend with him, and who knows what might have happened if Castle hadn't screwed that up. But she's still figuring out how she feels, if she can trust him, and what they might have in the future, to my way of thinking, and it's that thinking that informs this story._

_On a follow-up point, I know some of you don't want to hear me moan about trolls. You think I should just shut up, suck it up, get over it and learn to deal with negative reviews. But the situation is getting out of hand now, and I'm not alone in feeling that way. I do this for a hobby, to amuse and entertain myself and you guys. If you don't like a story, please just stop reading. There are a ton of them out there, enough to suit every taste. So be kind and considerate enough to leave writers alone please. I and they do not deserve some of the treatment being meted out right now. If you have a genuine negative comment to make - and by that I mean something constructive, not foul language, slurs, or just a preference for a direction the story should have taken in your own personal view - then please sign in so we can debate like adults. Don't hide behind guest status or set up new account like "RedPen767" did a few days ago just so you can be mean to someone who's only trying to make people's day a little better, to put some fun in some stranger's life, to add to the Castle folklore. Believe me, you will only feel ugly, unhappy and ultimately disconnected if you fall into the trap of hurling profanities at completely blameless strangers. Better still, start a story of your own, pour your energy into something positive and creative, use your words for good, share with the rest of us, feel the love that comes back to you a hundredfold when you do, and you will feel better about yourself, connected, a part of something bigger, happier and shinier than you are when you're alone in your room spouting hate._

_Final reminder: "Guests" who ask questions of authors will never get an answer to those questions, because unless you sign in we have no way of responding to you. Please remember that - it's so frustrating to be unable to reply when someone has a valid query. Also, please don't ask a question and expect a reply if you've signed in but disabled the private messaging feature, like Mathlover7 just did on one of my old stories. _

_Okay, sermon over, now on with the story. Hope everyone's doing okay this week. Liv_

* * *

**_Chapter 10 – Mourning_**

He got out of hospital late the next afternoon. Or so she heard.

She called intermittently for two days straight, his voicemail the only piece of him she got access to during that time. Eventually, she called the loft, left a message on the answer machine so the phone would ring out across the apartment, click on and someone else might hopefully hear how he was shutting her out of his life and object, _do something_.

When that didn't work she sent him a text.

_I know you're going through a hard time right now. I'd like to help if I can. I'm here if you need me. Kate_

"No word from Castle?" Ryan asked, as she sat in front of the murder board staring down at her blank phone screen instead of up at their array of suspects: mean, ugly-looking guys with alibis about as solid as a three legged stool with one leg missing.

Her head shot up at the mention of his name, like Pavlov's dog her brain utterly attuned for news of him. "Hmm? Oh, no," she replied, shaking her head, disappointed, though no new hope had even been on the cards when the question was asked.

"Maybe he's still on vacation," suggested Esposito. "Laying low in the Hamptons. Staying out the way of those dumbass cops."

Kate felt herself bristle on Castle's behalf at this suggestion, then the surge of desire to set her fellow detective straight. "_A:_ You were there for the interview, Javi, so you know there's no need for him to avoid any cops. _B:_ the only cops he seems to be avoiding are right here. And _C:_ Gina's funeral is tomorrow, so I doubt he skipped town, since he's the one paying for the whole shebang."

"How do you know all that?" asked Ryan, rolling his chair closer.

Kate shook her head and shrugged. "I read the papers. Obituary was in The Times."

"Right, course," nodded Esposito.

"Gina made The Times?" squawked Ryan, and Kate had to fight back an "I know, right?" of agreement. It had surprised her too.

But she ignored both men and the urge to be mean, and carried on with her confession. "_And_…Martha might have called," she admitted, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

"His _mother_ called you. But Castle's incommunicado?" Esposito clarified. "Mrs. Rodgers say why?"

Kate would rather not say. She'd really rather not discuss this at all. But these are her boys, Castle's family too, and they're the ones who forced her to go out to the hospital on Long Island in the first place. So maybe she owes them some information, instead of keeping everything to herself for a change. Halve the burden, if she's lucky.

"I imagine he just wants to take some time. I think he wants to be alone," Kate explained, her features drawn and serious, pained to have to admit that he actively chose not to need her now that he's back home.

"What, like Greta Garbo?" wise-cracked Esposito, kicking Ryan's chair to raise a laugh.

"What do you know about Greta Garbo?" scoffed Ryan, pinging a rubber band at his partner.

Kate threw them both a withering look. "And you guys wonder why Castle doesn't want to hang out with us anymore?"

"Come on, Beckett. That was funny," Esposito argued.

Kate closed the file she'd been staring at for the last twenty minutes, taking in nothing, and then she laid her palms flat on top of the buff, manila folder. "Nothing about this is funny. I'm actually really worried about him. So is Martha. That's why she called me."

"So call him."

"I have. So many times. He never answers. I leave messages, he doesn't return them. Send a text and he ignores it."

"Then you go to his place. Just show up at his door and refuse to leave until he lets you in."

"Guys, at this point I already look like a stalker. Show up at the loft and he's likely to take out a restraining order."

"Nah, see, that's where you're wrong," Esposito argued, slowly shaking his head at her, his lips pursed up into that stubborn Latin pout of his.

Kate dumped the file on the desk behind her with a thwack and crossed her arms. "Is that so? Enlighten me."

"Don't give me that look. Just listen to what I'm sayin'."

"Okay, what are you saying?"

"Well, put it this way. What would Castle do?"

Kate narrowed her eyes at him. "So…you're not actually _saying_ anything. You're just asking a question."

"No, wait, Beckett. He has a point," Ryan interjected, glancing at his partner.

"Not you too?" she sighed, ready to bury her head in her hands.

"You went off the grid like this, what do you think Castle would do? Just give up? Walk away and leave you alone?" asked Ryan, looking to Esposito for backup.

He didn't disappoint, pitching in he furthered their argument. "Nah. He thought you were in trouble, he'd pitch a tent on your stoop until you let him in."

Sadly, for Kate, they both had a point.

* * *

In the end, Paula arranged the funeral with input from Gina's few family members and a hefty injection of cash from Castle's personal account. The flowers were beautiful – blowsy heads of hydrangea in pale pink and lilac tones; heavy blooms which bobbed and nodded in the breeze from atop their large tripod display, reminding anyone who saw them of Gina's pale, Scandinavian femininity, her poise and class.

Kate took a spot several yards back from the crowd of graveside mourners, dark-suited on yet another dry, sunny June day. The service was already underway, and she watched from this safe distance beside the thick trunk of a sheltering tree as handfuls of dirt were scattered onto the already lowered coffin by friends, family members and a long, attractive line of what looked like past suitors.

The cemetery glowed with color, so many shades of green: lime leaves, apple grass, an overripe banana yellow patch of earth where a headstone had fallen and lain untouched for a long time before being righted and replanted in its proper place, depriving the ground below of light.

She picked out Martha and Alexis with no trouble at all – their bright red hair shining like copper in the sunlight. Castle stood with Gina's mother and sister, his face still pale, his arm in a functional cast, suit sharp and with a black silk tie running like a river of grief down the front of his impossibly white shirt. Seeing him again had a painful edge she wasn't expecting, the sight of him setting up a yearning in her chest, a desire to fix things between them even though she was struggling with what was actually broken. She wanted him back in her life and she'd take any crumb he'd be willing to give her right now, such was her need for normality between them.

But he was grieving for his ex-wife, that much was clear even from this distance, and he was supporting Gina's family. To come here thinking she might get a chance to speak to him, to plead her case, suddenly looked like a serious misjudgment on her part.

* * *

The service was almost over before she could marshall her thoughts. She was preparing to leave without making her presence known when a hard-edged, nasal voice from just a yard or two behind her asked, "Haven't you done enough damage?"

Kate jumped, so caught up in watching her partner that her awareness levels had dropped to the point where Paula Haas, Castle's pushy agent, could sneak up on her, despite being on the stompy side of heavy-footed.

Kate spun around, her brow creased in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"Rick's a mess. Hasn't written anything useable in weeks…"

Was she really doing this now – worrying about his writing output at a time like this? Did this harpy never take a day off?

Kate tried to keep her tone even and the volume low, in deference to the occasion. "I'm sorry to hear that, but I don't see how—"

But Paula cut her off. "You know he's in love with you, right?"

Not you too, thought Kate, ready to put her head in her hands. "No, I don't know that," Kate replied as calmly as she could. "What I _do_ know is that he was with Gina, that they planned on spending the summer together. They told me so themselves. And now—"

"Bullshit!" declared Paula, drawing a look from one of the mourners on the outer edge of well-dressed crowd, the man standing close enough to hear her.

Kate held up her hands to placate her, to shush her too. "Look, this is a funeral," she pointed out, sotto voce.

"To which you weren't invited," snapped Paula.

"Why do you hate me so much?"

The heat in the air, the cloying choke of pollen, the stillness without any breeze to cool them began to feel suffocating as she waited for Paula to answer her question.

"Because he's pining for you and you're…you're _clueless_," she said, gesturing at Kate with a look of utter distaste on her face, a look that said she had no idea why he'd even give the detective the time of day.

"He isn't returning my calls, clearly doesn't want anything to do with me, so…you win. Or whatever," Kate shrugged. "Look, I only came here to pay my respects like everyone else and to support Castle."

Paula's hard face hardened even further, her mouth a cruel slash of red. "You said it yourself, he doesn't need your support. He doesn't even want it anymore."

Kate cut her voice to a whisper. "Look, this is inappropriate. We're at a funeral. Anyway…I was just leaving. You can tell him I came…or not. Up to you." And then she turned to walk away.

"He wrote best when he thought he had a chance with you," Paula threw at Kate's retreating back.

Kate stopped walking, frozen for a second, before she turned around and pinned Paula with her best Beckett glare. "I'm confused. Do you want me to leave him alone or not?"

She was still waiting for an answer from Paula when Castle spotted her from a distance. The crowd was in the process of turning away from the graveside, scattering now that the burial service was complete, and that's when he saw her. His whole face changed the second he did: eyes sparking blue, hollowed cheeks filling out; as if someone had just remade him in color; as if he'd started to breathe air again. Kate's heart rate sped up instantly, the rushing sound of blood thundering in her eardrums cutting out all other noise, including whatever chewing gum-flavored nonsense Paula was whining in her direction.

On a panicked whim she decided it was time to leave. "I have to go," she told the shocked looking literary agent. "Nice talking to you," she added as a bizarre afterthought, leaving Paula looking perplexed over whether to feel insulted or not.

* * *

He showed up at her door not three hours later, his tie loosened and with his arm still in a sling. He had his jacket worn over his good arm and draped over the shoulder on his injured side.

"I saw you at the funeral," he said immediately she opened her front door, shocked to find him standing there.

Kate looked down at her bare feet, toes curled against the wooden floor. Her leggings and cropped t-shirt suddenly seemed a lot less than appropriate or sufficient for conversing with a handsome man in an Armani suit. "I shouldn't have just shown up like that." She bit her lip and looked down at the floor again, eyes hooded after this confession. Because it had been a monstrously stupid idea - going to Gina's funeral - for all sorts of reasons.

He offered her an easy way out, employing his usual generous MO to grease those rusty Beckett wheels of non-communication. "You wanted to pay your respects."

Kate shook her head, tired of playing games and pretending life was other than you wanted it to be. "No, I wanted to be there for you. Since you weren't returning my calls I figured—" She shrugged, looking embarrassed for a second. "Anyway…Paula showed me how big a mistake _that_ idea was," she admitted, her eyebrows flying up of their own accord as she recalled his agent's performance.

Castle scrubbed his good hand down across his face, leaving his skin looking red and angry in its wake. "Paula? _Screw Paula._ Paula is so fired. Kate, do we have a chance here or not?" he demanded, seeming to have decided like her that the time for games and misdirection was over.

She swallowed thickly, unprepared for him to be so bold after days and days of ducking her attempts to get in touch. "I think maybe you should come inside," she suggested, opening the door wider and backing away to give him room to pass.

Castle strode to the middle of her living room floor, a task he accomplished in just a few steps given the length of his legs. The heels of his black dress shoes rang out hollowly against her hardwood floor, drowning out the sound of her thundering heart.

Kate followed him in, soundless in her bare feet, stopping a few yards back from where he stood facing the faraway wall, the muscles of his back and shoulders taut as banded steel beneath the fine, light-weight wool of his jacket.

"Can I make you something? Tea? Coffee maybe?" she asked, curling and unfurling her fingers nervously, toying with her mother's ring where it hung on its chain, visible at the low vee of her loose t-shirt.

He immediately began to bargain with her. "As long as you promise to talk, I'll take tea."

"I'm not the one who wouldn't return phone calls," Kate lobbed back at him.

"Tea, please…and I just needed some time."

"So your mother said," Kate replied, already brushing past him to enter her small kitchen. "Still, would have been nice to hear it from you."

There was a beat or two of angry silence, silence that was broken only by the sound of water running in the sink, until Castle said, "Your boyfriend showed up that last day at the hospital. Came looking for you, sniffing around after you left to check if you still needed a ride."

"My—" Kate turned to give him a look that begged the description insanity. "Castle, did you _hear_ what I just asked you? You couldn't send me a text message, tell me you were doing okay?"

His features morphed from wounded male pride to anguish. "And what if I wasn't? What then?"

"Maybe I could have helped? It's not like I'm a stranger to grief or loss," she pointed out.

Castle shook his head with determination. "You loved your mom, Kate. She was your mother. This isn't like that. How do you even begin to grieve for an ex-wife you made the mistake of hooking up with again?"

Castle saw her hurt, horrified expression before she could hide it.

"Sorry," he apologized. "Bad word choice. And that's not exactly what happened, just for the record."

She side-stepped the issue of whether Castle had actually slept with Gina again or not. The woman was dead. They buried her today. She wouldn't stoop so low as to be jealous of a dead woman. "Grief is personal, Castle. You do whatever feels right for you. Or you go talk to someone…a professional. Get help figuring it out."

"A friend?"

Kate nodded, conceding, "A friend would be good too…if that friend was a good listener...someone you trust."

"I have it on good authority that she is."

Kate felt her cheeks getting warm at this description, and she turned away to tend to the kettle on the stove. "She's pretty good at listening, yes. But she's still learning how to ask for what she wants."

Castle pursued her. Nowhere to hide today. "What she wants?"

"Out of life."

"I see."

The kettle whistled sharply, interrupting their s(word)play. Kate turned away to make the tea. "Chamomile okay?"

"Supposed to be soothing, right?"

"Yeah. Something like that. It's also the only teabags I have left. Need to go grocery shopping," she admitted with a sigh.

"In that case, chamomile would be perfect."

* * *

Kate carried their cups to the sofa and set them down on the coffee table, helping Castle out of his suit jacket when he began to struggle with his brace. They settled down a few feet apart, like unmatched bookends on a lonely, book-less shelf.

"How's your arm?"

"They say good. Bones are knitting back in place. Itches like crazy at night, but the scars are healing."

Kate nodded sagely. "Scars will do that…given time."

"Why do I get the impression we're not really talking about my arm here?"

She smiled, a sallow, weak affair, but a smile nonetheless. "Because maybe we're not _just_ talking about your arm. Maybe we're talking about you and me and what didn't happen a few weeks ago and then what _did_ happen…with you and Gina."

Castle clutched his mug tightly in his good hand as if to bolster himself. "I made a mistake."

"I felt so stupid, Rick. All ready to make this big speech." She cleared her throat, pulling herself together again. "But then you've paid a heavy price so…"

"Yeah. We all have."

Kate took a deep breath and then she gave voice to the sharp splinter of guilt that had settled deep in her chest ever since she got to the hospital and learned the full details of the crash. The deep splinter that hurt like hell every time she tried to breathe deeply, or sleep or eat. "I feel like we killed someone who was standing in our way. Someone innocent. Does that sound crazy to you?"

Castle looked up sharply. "Gina wasn't some innocent victim. She grabbed for the wheel, remember? She caused that accident, Kate. And you…you were nowhere _near_ the LIE that night. So you need to beating yourself up over something that had nothing to do with you."

This was not how Kate saw things at all. "But it did have something to do with me. Don't you see? If I had gone to the Hamptons with you like you wanted, none of this mess would have happened."

"Hey, hey, hey. Just…stop. Take a breath, okay?"

"Castle, we're screwed. We're…we're toxic, is what we are."

Credit to him, after all he'd been through today and in all the preceding days since the accident, he looked determined rather than disheartened. His voice was calm and even when he spoke. "No, we're not. That crash was a tragic accident. That's what my great listener of a friend would tell me. In fact, I distinctly remember her trying to tell me that very thing when I was still in hospital, only I was too pig-headed to listen."

Kate sniffed and then smiled. "She sounds wise this friend of yours."

Castle nodded, his determination softening the longer he looked at her with that meaningful, laden stare only he was allowed to pin her with. "Oh, she is. And fierce and…kinda hot too."

Kate blushed and ducked her head shyly, asking, "Just _kinda_ hot?"

Castle let out a raucous burst of laughter. "Totally hot. There, is that better?"

She grinned, her eyes travelling up from her mug of tea to meet his when she nodded and said, "Much."

* * *

A moment of quiet delineated the shift in gears from before to after, a settling of something between them, something agreed upon without words or argument or bargaining this time.

"Look, I know none of this is easy. We're both in a bad place right now. But part of the reason we're hurting is because we care about each other. Am I right?"

Kate nodded. "That's fair."

Castle looked thoughtful for a second and then he plunged back in. "When you had this speech worked out—"

"Oh, believe me, worked out is a stretch. I wanted to tell you I'd decided to accept your invitation to go away for the weekend. If I'd just said that straight out instead of fumbling this big preamble…"

"You said you were hard to get to know."

So he had been listening to her after all.

"Understatement of the century," Kate quipped.

"Maybe, but you're getting better at being open, if all those hours in the ICU were any indication."

"But, Castle, I need to be able to speak up when you're not lying in a hospital bed having scared me half to death," she pointed out.

"Can I be frank and say that the fact you were scared at all is music to my ears, Kate?"

Her fingers tightened around her mug to stop the trembling. "You'd feel the same if it was me."

"A little presumptuous but—" Kate gasped and Castle laughed, holding up his good arm to fend off imagined blows. Ever the class clown, even if today his act was solely calculated to cheer her up.

Their laughter died away and in its wake was left the serious intent of the day, like the tiny, microscopic flakes of gold lying glinting in the bottom of a miner's pan: the ultimate residual treasure.

"I would be deeply affected if anything ever happened to you. Horrified, scared…" He paused, took a breath. "I messed up so badly not telling you exactly why I invited you for Memorial Day Weekend. That I wanted to spend time alone with you…away from the guys, Kate. Just you and me holding cookouts on the deck, walking the beach, sitting out on the damp sand watching the sunset, talking, drinking, finding out if there could be anything more between us than a growing friendship and the muse-writer thing we already had going on."

"What about the cop-partner thing?" Her heart hammered and her mouth felt dry. She wouldn't ask "then why Gina"? She wouldn't.

"That too."

"The chicken or the egg?"

"Right," he smiled to himself and ducked his head to toy with the knife-edge pleat on his suit pants.

Kate took a risk. "I would have come and we would have had fun. You'd drive me nuts, I'd kick sand in your face, you'd throw me into the waves and…" She trailed off and took a long drag of her tea.

Castle's head whipped up and he stared at her again, slightly open-mouthed. "That's...a lot, right there. A whole lot for two people who don't know each other that well and have terrible communication skills when it really counts."

"You know me a lot more than I let on, Mr. Castle."

"You seem to be _re-_making me piece-by-piece, Kate. So I barely know myself some days. But it's good. It's all good."

"Work in progress?" she asked, tilting her head to look at him, so see if that re-working was in anyway discernible just by looking.

"Damn straight."

"Sounds…promising."

His dark eyebrows leapt upwards as if they'd been shocked. "Could be awesome."

"Do you think we have a chance?" She asked the question timidly and then bit her lip waiting for a reply.

"Don't we owe it to Gina's memory to at least try?"

Ah, Gina. The source of endless guilt or the catalyst to begin anew: to try harder, to agree that life is short and opportunities like this should not be wasted.

"How long will you have that thing on?" Kate asked, nodding at his cast, the question borne of her own vested interest.

"Five more weeks."

She set her mug aside on the table in front of her and smoothed her hands down her thighs, straightening her spine as she did so. "Right. So…six weeks and you'll come back?"

Castle looked surprised. "You want me back at the precinct?"

"We make a good team. Be a shame to deprive New York City of one of its foremost crime-fighting duos."

A grin slowly formed on the writer's face. "Sounds like an argument I'd make."

"What can I say…you're rubbing off on me."

Castle laughed, hard and dirty at her choice of words.

Kate's eyes widened in shock. "Richard Castle! You didn't _not_ just laugh at that?"

"Come on, Beckett. How could I not?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Six weeks?"

He nodded back, so much warmth in his eyes this time. "Six weeks."

_TBC..._


	11. Chapter 11 - Confusion

_A/N: I haven't read any of the reviews or PM's I received following the last chapter. So if you asked a question or left a kind comment, my apologies for not responding. I just wanted to focus on writing this next chapter before I opened any of them. Thank you for continuing to read._

* * *

**_Chapter 11 – Confusion_**

Six weeks seemed like a long time.

A really long time.

But then the more she thought about it the more she realized that it needn't be so. If she chose to handle it with openness and optimism, to let go of any residual hurt and embarrassment over her own part in Castle's decision to reconnect with Gina then it needn't be long and lonely, filled up merely with waiting and marking time. No, it could be filled with other things too – useful, purposeful, sometimes awkward or difficult things, but things that would ultimately carry them forward towards a new place together. So that when those six weeks were up, Castle could come back to work with her properly healed in all senses of the word, and she would have played her part in that recuperation, and he would have healed her too in a way.

Looked at in that light, it was a win-win. Or at least it could be.

* * *

"Thank you for the flowers by the way," he had said to her as he hovered by her open front door, lingering as if the last thing he wanted to do was leave. His face looked cloudy, that grey of approaching rain clouds on an unsettled, unpredictable day. "Gina would have approved," he added, before letting his gaze drop to meet the floor.

Kate frowned in puzzlement. "Approved? Of…pink roses?"

He nodded, a little choked all of a sudden, the weight of the day bearing down on him in one great helter-skelter of emotion. "Yeah, the roses, and…you. She liked you, Kate."

This comment struck her as odd, given how things had turned out with their trip to the Hamptons, the argument in the car that seemed in part to be about her, and then the crash itself.

Castle must have seen her puzzled expression and, as usual, read her mind.

"That must sound strange, I know. Given…everything."

Kate waited, allowing him space to elaborate if he wanted to instead of closing down a discussion she felt bordered on the uncomfortable. Eventually, continue he did.

"I don't want to sound presumptuous here or like I'm some big catch, but…"

He caught Kate trying to suppress a sudden smile, since that's exactly what he thought of himself when she first met him, and it's almost exactly how he propositioned her when he asked her to join him in the Hamptons: regaling her with tales of his wonderful, beachside home, the azure pool, a chance to work on her tan. Kate in a swimsuit...or nothing, if she preferred.

"Don't give me that look," he chided, choking back a startled laugh of his own.

"Self-depreciating isn't usually your style, Castle, you have to admit."

"Okay, maybe. In the past. But I'm a changed man." He rubbed at his neck, awkward even as he confessed to her part in his redemption. "I already told you. You're remaking me, Beckett."

She grinned, eyebrows cocked with a hint sauce and fun. "So…you're really saying this is _my_ fault?"

He regarded her soberly, the only suggestion of teasing the glint in his eye. "It's to your credit that I'm…not as big of an ass as I used to be."

_I rather like your ass_, she wanted to tell him. But given they were still talking about Gina, it didn't seem quite the moment to bring that up. She would save it for another, more appropriate time.

"Then I will take that as a compliment."

"Anyway, Gina. She said that if she was going to lose me to anyone, she'd rather it was you."

_Oh._

Kate frowned at the same moment her face and chest flooded with color. The pulse in her neck began the thrum. "She said that?"

Castle nodded, his gaze on her face watchful, wary, as if he expected her to ask him to leave instead of looking for clarification. For more. "In a lucid, calm moment, yeah."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "She admired you, Kate. She thought you were intelligent, that you had class and guts. She saw you as a good influence on me, I think. Inspiring me to write a profitable new book series didn't hurt either."

Kate smiled. "Yeah, that's kind of what Paula said today."

"Look, I'm sorry about Paula. Believe me we will be having—"

"Don't fire her, please?" Kate cut in.

That was Castle's turn to frown in puzzlement. "You're standing up for Haas? After what she said to you today? _Why?_"

"Because she did have a point or two that was worth listening to."

_You know he's in love with you._

"And she's loyal to you. Last thing you need right now is more upheaval on the work front. Things at Black Pawn are going to be strange enough with Gina suddenly gone."

Castle tipped his head to one side, observing Kate like you might look at a precious, priceless display in a museum case. "Gina was right. You are _really_ smart."

"And you're just realizing this?" she smirked. Her delight at his compliment was evident in her one girlish tell: the coquettish way she toyed with a lock of hair as if she was Rapunzel, her golden locks trailing the floor, and not Detective Kate Beckett, she of the no-nonsense shoulder length bob.

"Now who's abandoned self-depreciation?"

Kate smiled, dropping her head to gaze at the floor for a second before she looked up again, tucking her hair back behind her ear as she did so.

"I should probably go," said Castle, that reluctance still there in his tone and in the firm plant of his feet on the wooden floor.

"Yeah, before you take root out in my hallway," joked Kate, flashing him a smile.

"So…I will see you at work in six weeks time, detective?" he said, bravely sticking out his hand to shake hers.

This was so not him – walking away for six weeks without a backward glance - and she knew what it was costing him not to push her into something before she looked like she was ready.

Kate took his hand in her own slender grip, finding it instantly warm and all encompassing, and she shook it. Once their handshake was over, she failed to let go for several seconds more, only releasing him when it became too awkward to hold on anymore. Castle gave her a slightly quizzical look and then he nodded once and turned to leave.

* * *

"Listen, I was thinking," she said, loud enough to stop him just a few steps away.

He pivoted back to face her immediately, the ball of his leather-soled shoe scraping against the well-worn wooden boards in the hallway of the old apartment building.

"Yeah?" he said with such hope that the actual words might have been "_Anything, I'll do anything"._

"If you get bored recuperating…or you just want to hangout sometime…" She smiled in response to the growing grin she observed breakout on Castle's face as she spoke.

"I would love that."

Kate looked relieved a hundred different ways. She let out an unintentionally loud breath and pressed one hand flat over her heart, which was thumping vigorously beneath her t-shirt.

"Are…are you _nervous?_" Castle asked, approaching her door once more to get a closer look at her. "Kate, did you think for one second I would turn down a chance to spend more time with you?"

Her teeth were almost piercing her lower lip when she looked up at him, feeling small and slight and entirely too young in her leggings and bare feet before this dark, manly edifice in a smart suit and tie.

"I told you before, I'm not good at doing the running. That's why I fumbled accepting your invitation to the Hamptons."

"Then let me make this easy for you. I would be delighted to spend time with you, Kate Beckett. Any and all time you can spare."

Kate laughed, relief still flooding out in every in and exhale she made.

"Clear enough for you?"

"Yes," she smiled, grateful and relieved. "Very clear."

"So…you'll call me when space opens up in your schedule?"

"I will do that. I promise."

"Good."

Castle stepped in close, hovered for a second, serious blue eyes roaming her pale face, and then before she knew what was happening he lightly cupped her jaw and leaned down to kiss her cheek. The feather-light caress of his lips on her skin left her closed-eyed and breathless.

"Speak soon, detective. Take care," he added, backing away, just an eyelash flutter of a moment later.

Once Kate had recovered enough to open her eyes, she called after him, "Thank you. You too," still watching as he headed down the hallway with sure, steady strides, and then turned right into the stairwell. A flash of his good hand in a parting wave and a jauntier bounce to his walk were her twin rewards before he disappeared from view.

* * *

She called him the very next day.

"How do you feel about mussels?" she asked, fingers crossed on the hand that dangled free by her side.

However what Castle actually heard was: How do you feel about _muscles?_

"Eh…I feel like this might be a trick question. Did Esposito ask you to ask me this? Because we were arguing about the possibility of developing an eight pack a while back, and Javi claimed—"

Kate snorted…loudly. "The only eight pack Esposito's likely to see is in a liquor store, the way he's been going at Lanie's cooking lately."

This was Castle's turn to laugh, a joyous sound that had Kate grinning from ear to ear.

"So…why the question about muscles? Have you been hitting the gym since I went away? _Not_ that you need to, I must stress."

"Castle, stop. Not _those_ kind of muscles. I mean mussels-mussels," she chuckled.

"What? Oh, you mean _moules_?"

"Oui, les moules. Précisément."

"Hot damn. Say that again. Oh, please? And whatever it is, I'm in if you promise to keep speaking French to me over the phone."

Kate giggled. "There's a new moules-frites place just opened down my block. I wondered if you wanted to grab dinner?"

"Ask me in French and it's a oui-oui from me."

"No need for the French. You just gave me my answer."

"_Kate?_" he whined.

She sighed in happy resignation, feigning put-upon. "Veux-tu dîner avec moi, s'il te plaît? Tu peux manger d'une seule main. Donc c'est parfait avec ton bras cassé."*

Silence on the line.

"Castle? You still there?"

A gasp of air was followed by a coughing fit. "Sorry. Yeah. I'm still thinking about your bra," he confessed to loud laughter from Kate.

"Ton bras cassé," she repeated patiently. "It means your broken arm."

"Aww, Beckett. Don't ruin my fantasy with your disappointing, academic translation. And to be clear, that's the fantasy where you whisper to me in French about your underwear."

Kate bit her lip to stop from laughing. "Would you rather I lied to you?"

"Lying is such an ugly word. I prefer the far prettier term 'humor the invalid'."

Kate made a scoffing sound. "In your dreams, Castle. So…you up for dinner or not?" she asked, all business again to hide her nervousness at putting herself out there with him, and so soon too.

* * *

And that was how it started – a long series of dinners: one-handed forked meals or finger-food eaten out in small neighborhood places, takeout ordered in or recipes cooked from scratch at his loft or at her apartment. They ate together several nights a week and during those meals she shared the details of her cases with him, sought his counsel and divulged concerns about difficult interviews, missing witnesses, and a slew of canvasses that turned up only blind-eyes, deaf ears and even more dead ends.

They slipped into something of a routine, seamlessly and without even noticing. Eating dinner together became something they expected to do. There was no big, boundary-crossing event, save for Kate's first brave phone call asking him out for moules-frites at the new Belgian place down the block. And without the discomfort and directness of an "are you asking me on a date" moment, this new development came to them easily.

After dinner they would walk for a while if eating out, chatting, sharing stories of growing up in the city, on a couple of occasions only blocks away from one another. And on nights when they ate at home after making dinner together, Kate and Alexis or Kate and Martha would handle the dishes while Castle busied himself finding them a movie to watch, always searching out a film that would grab Kate's attention in particular, something interesting or entertaining enough that it would detain her a while longer so that the evening would be slow to come to an end.

During this time they began to rely on one another too. Castle shared even more of his concerns about Alexis than he had in the past: seeking Kate's advice on teenage girl issues, study choices, dating, soliciting stories from her college years to scare himself half to death about a time he knew would be arriving all too soon. Kate talked a little about her dad: about her concerns for his long-term health as a result of the damage he had done to his body by drinking so hard in the years after her mother's death. She sought his opinion as to whether her father, or any man, could ever be happy alone, since he had made no attempt to find female companionship in the long and growing period of his widowhood. No topic, it seemed, was too personal to remain off-limits.

They learned how to be comfortable alone in each other's company, since Martha and Alexis often excused themselves to go to bed or simply weren't home on some of the evenings they spent together. Conversation flowed and any periods of quiet were enjoyed rather than endured. They had discovered a new rhythm and made it their own.

* * *

By the time Castle stopped by the precinct one morning, about three weeks into his recuperation, replete with one-handed coffee tray and a dangerously dangled bag of pastries for everyone, there was enough of shift in their relationship that the boys noticed the development immediately. Kate and Castle, having slipped into it over time, did not.

"Remember you have PT at…yeah, it's 4.30 today," Kate reminded the writer, after looking down to consult her own desk calendar while Castle happily munched on a bear claw at her desk, liberally spilling crumbs as he ate untidily, having only one good hand to spare for the task.

"Yes, ma'am," he saluted, beaming his gratitude while Kate wordlessly gathered and disposed of the crumbs littering the surface of her desk with one of the paper napkins from Castle's bag of goodies.

"Bear claws are definitely a two-handed snack," noted Castle, as a final shower of puff pastry accompanied his last bite, re-coating the edge of Kate's desk with small specks of flaky Danish and almond paste.

Kate patiently collected this new smattering of crumbs without comment, only to add, "Sorry I can't take you today. We're up to our eyes in 'who killed Jerry Maguire'."

When Castle gave her a quizzical look she added, "Sports agent. Discovered shot through the temple as he sat in the back of his own car."

"Oooo, sounds great. Fill me in over dinner? I got some new season summer squash and fresh field peas at the Greenmarket this morning. I can fry the steaks if you chop the veg?"

* * *

Ryan and Esposito gathered in a huddle by the murder board. They were positioned in such a way that they half hidden behind the rolling screen, which still left enough of an open vista with which to observe their boss and the writer, who seemed pretty oblivious to anything but their own conversation anyway.

"Would you listen to mom and dad?" whispered Ryan, observing the complaint-free crumb clearance Kate was indulging in for the second time, along with the relaxed manner in which Castle lounged in the chair by her desk: one leg thrown over the opposite knee, slouched back in his seat, not exactly flirting, but definitely a whole lot more comfortable with one another than the last time they had faced off in the precinct together. The fateful day Gina had shown up.

"Yo! Ross and Rachel," blurted Esposito, earning himself a sharp elbow-jab to the ribs from Ryan.

"What'd you do that for?" hissed Ryan, disappointed to have their secret observance of their boss and her shadow ended by Esposito's big mouth.

"Say what now?" asked Castle, standing and stretching.

He collected up the cardboard coffee tray, replaced the empty cups in their slots and balled up the paper bag ready for the trash.

Castle gestured to the break room. "I'll go ditch these in there and be off," he told Kate, who also seemed oblivious to Esposito's little dig.

"Thanks, Castle. For the coffee break and for stopping by. Broke up the day," she told him, reaching out to touch his elbow in thanks.

"You're welcome. So…just come over whenever you're ready. I should be back by six," he offered, his back turned to the boys once more. "It'll just be the two of us tonight. So I was thinking maybe _Blue Valentine_? Since Alexis isn't home and my mother won't be there to offer any embarrassing running commentary?"

Kate grinned and nodded her head to the suggestion, while Esposito watched this domestic-looking scene in utter amazement.

"So…are you guys…?"

They both turned to face him, perfectly in sync.

"_Coooool!_" breathed Ryan, a broad, impressed grin full of wonder splitting his face.

"What?" asked Kate, frowning at Esposito.

"You know. Like…together?" he asked, waving his hand between them.

"Two co-workers can't have dinner together without it meaning— Just what _are_ you suggesting, Javi?" snapped Kate.

He shook his head, looking unconvinced as he mumbled, "Nothin'."

* * *

Castle wandered off to the break room as planned to get rid of their trash, while Kate returned to the DD5 she had been filling out when the writer had arrived unexpectedly. Esposito followed Castle into the break room, a slightly troubling fact that Kate did not miss. She quietly simmered as she tried to focus on her report. But Castle was a big boy. He could deal with Esposito's nosy enquiries without her help. It still took a whole lot of resolve to keep her in her seat.

"Yo, Castle. So how's the arm healing, man?" Esposito asked, as he sidled inside.

Castle dumped the coffee cups in the trashcan and spun around, surprised by the question since he believed himself to be alone. "Oh, hey, Espo. Yeah, not bad," he replied, holding up his injured arm, safe in its functional brace. "Totally ready to lose this thing though. Stops you doing so much."

"Oh, yeah? Like what?" asked Esposito, clearly with an agenda.

"Well…lot's of stuff. Anything that needs two arms or two hands, I guess," Castle explained with a one-shouldered shrug.

He watched Esposito glance out towards the bullpen, most likely checking the whereabouts of his boss, and he got a strong feeling that something more personal was coming.

Esposito turned his back on the door, thumbing over his shoulder as he spoke to leave Castle in no doubt who he was talking about. "She was drinking tea within a day of you leaving for the Hamptons, bro. She tell you that?"

Castle shrugged. "So Beckett sometimes drinks tea. What's the big deal?"

"No, I mean like she _gave up coffee_…totally. Like swore off the stuff."

Castle frowned, puzzled on two fronts – why Kate would do that, since she loved coffee so much, and why Esposito thought it was important for him to know this, considering she'd clearly returned to her old coffee drinking ways. He gave it another second or two's thought, watching Esposito for clues. The detective's face bore an expression that said Castle should be able to work this one out for himself, and that he, Javi, was just biding his time for the ah-ha moment.

Wait. Castle swallowed hard. Women usually gave up coffee when they were…

Oh shit. No. Not with _Demming?_ Is that why they had really broken up?

Esposito watched something sink in as Castle's expression slowly changed - the light dimmed in his eyes, his features hardened, he looked close to panic - and then Esposito nodded, as if to confirm the conclusion Castle had just arrived at for himself.

"So…why is she back drinking coffee?" Castle asked, wary of the answer.

"Best ask her yourself," Espo offered cryptically. "I'm just sayin', man. She took it hard. She was a mess those first couple of weeks and then—"

* * *

Castle's mind was whirring. Esposito's behavior at the hospital had been odd, even hostile at times. Kate had seemed tired and pale too. He'd put that down to the long hours stuck indoors by his bedside. But in truth he had been in no clear-minded position to judge anything. What if there had been something else, something she didn't think she could share with him. All the closeness they had gained since the funeral, or that he _believed_ they had achieved, would be based on a lie or a truth withheld at best.

He checked his watch, ignoring the white noise of Esposito's continued drone, and then he left the break room in a hurry.

Kate looked up from her desk the second he emerged, such a lovely, open smile on her face. He caught a glimpse of the paused trailer for the movie they had planned to watch tonight still open on her computer screen.

"Blue Valentine looks…_something_," she said, raising her eyebrows to indicate _"adult"_ or some other description for NC-17 she wasn't prepared to say in the middle of the bullpen.

"Yeah. See you later," Castle vaguely mumbled, trailing his hand over the back of her chair without touching her as he made his way out to the elevator.

Kate stood, turning to watch him walk away. "Castle? Everything okay?"

He raised his hand in a parting wave, but didn't turn around or stop or add anything else. He just carried on walking like a one-armed zombie, lost in his own world when he pressed the button and then entered the elevator as the doors slid open like magic before him.

Kate turned back towards the break room, utterly baffled, only to find Esposito lounging up against the doorframe with an enigmatic expression on his face. She narrowed her eyes, watching as her fellow detective stared back at her, the unreadable fix of his features still in place.

"What did you do?" asked Kate, an unfamiliar feeling beginning to gnaw at the pit of her stomach, fear making her insides clench. "Javi, what the hell did you do?"

_TBC..._

* * *

_Note: _"Veux-tu dîner avec moi, s'il te plaît? Tu peux manger d'une seule main. Donc c'est parfait avec ton bras cassé."*

_Translation: "Please have dinner with me? You can eat one-handed. So it's perfect for your broken arm."_


	12. Chapter 12 - Healing

_A/N: This chapter is dedicated to fanficfan39. I hope you get better soon! xoxo_

* * *

_Previously…_

"_What did you do?" asked Kate, an unfamiliar feeling beginning to gnaw at the pit of her stomach, fear making her insides clench. "Javi, what the hell did you do?"_

* * *

**Chapter 12 – Healing**

Esposito looked defiant, feet planted shoulder width apart as he faced-off across the bullpen with his boss. "I…I just told him about the tea thing."

But then maybe just a hint of wavering surfaced in the faint pink tinge that rose to warm his tan cheeks. Either way, in true Esposito-style, with jaw set firm and arms crossed he stood his ground.

"The— What?" Kate frowned, words rearranging themselves inside her head like a puzzle until they made sense, before the penny dropped and she exclaimed, "_Why?_"

"I thought he should know."

Kate narrowed her eyes dangerously. "What _exactly_ did you think he needed to know?"

"That he hurt you. Leaving with Gina like that. That he hurt you badly enough that you stopped…you know." He waved his hand in the direction of an empty mug sitting on Kate's desk with a dried up ring of coffee in the bottom and an ugly chip on the rim.

"Stopped what?"

"You know…drinking coffee."

It sounded so stupid, put as baldly as that; childish and benign. Not something that could cause any damage at all between two people who cleared cared for one another. Unless you were Kate Beckett and Richard Castle and coffee was part of your lexicon of love.

Kate swallowed hard. "And that's how he…" She looked over her shoulder at the elevator doors, closed for around a minute now, Castle long gone. "And that's why he left like that?"

She shook her head in exasperation, as if clearing water from her ears, and then she planted her hands on her hips. They were doing so well, they loved spending time together. Since that night at her apartment the day of Gina's funeral it had all seemed to come so easily – finding a new way to be together outside of work, becoming best friends, taking things day-by-day until Kate hoped they'd reach a point when they might become more than just friends.

"No. No, something's not right here. He—" Kate turned to seek out Ryan for an independent, less testosterone-fuelled, macho take on things. "Hey, Kevin, did you see Castle leave?"

Ryan was still skulking over by the murder board until he stepped out of the shadows and into the light. "Uh…yup."

"Did he look upset to you?"

Ryan cut his eyes to his partner.

"Look at me. Don't look at him," commanded Kate. "Did he look upset or not?"

Ryan squirmed. "Kind of."

Kate turned back to pin Esposito with the full force of her glare. "Right. Walk me through it. _Again._ From the beginning."

By the time they were done with all the ins and outs, Kate had a pretty clear idea why Castle had left so quickly and looked so miserable as he did so. Their "Jerry Maguire" case would have to wait. The sports agent was dead already and he wasn't going to get any deader if Kate cut out early, leaving the boys to continue the investigation for one afternoon without her.

She made up a crazy excuse about a last minute dental appointment for Captain Montgomery, who waved her off without listening to half of what she had to say. If his best detective needed to leave in a rush, something serious was up. He trusted her enough that he had no need to know exactly what that something actually was.

* * *

Castle's physical therapist's office was on the forth floor of a rather ugly looking building on the northwest corner of Union Square. For the second time in as many weeks Kate found herself standing in front of a bank of elevators, too restless and impatient to wait for the next available car. So she ran up four flights of stairs, a greater sense of urgency pressing down on her the higher up she rose.

She burst into reception without slowing to catch her breath, surprising the heck out of the rather ancient receptionist sitting placidly in the outer office, her attention completely devoted to a mushy romance novel she kept all but hidden from view beneath the desk.

"Is Mr. Castle—"

A lilac tinged halo of fine hair bobbed up, a pretty, pink-toned face ensconced within. The effect was somewhat angelic, ethereal, and yet disturbingly over-powdered all at once; giving her the appearance of a badly made-up corpse. "He's in with the therapist right now. And you are?"

"His partner. Kate Be—"

"Ah, yes. I remember you," the kindly, shortsighted, older woman cut in, having popped on her glasses and peered at Kate from atop her desk. She beamed at the detective, giving off vibes of a slightly scatty manner which were quickly refuted when she accurately recalled, "You came in together last Friday."

She was already up and out from behind her desk and halfway to the door of the treatment room when she added, "Such a cute couple. I'll just tell them you're here."

Kate balked. "No. Wait—"

But it was too late. For no spring chicken she was surprisingly fast on her little white Nurse Mates clogs. The pastel colored candy floss halo of hair had already disappeared around the doorframe, her bubble brain extrapolating at a million miles an hour. "Your wife is waiting outside, Mr. Castle. No, you take your time. I'm sure we girls can find plenty to talk about."

Kate closed her eyes as her heart sank, leaving her wishing she could disappear through a crack in the grey vinyl tile.

It was a day full of monumental misunderstandings, it seemed. So she decided to just go with the flow for once, avoid the awkwardness of a late correction to their relationship status that would make this sweet, well-meaning woman look senile and make Kate look instantly out of place. She'd taken on the role of Castle's next of kin in the hospital when he was in a far worse state than he was now. She could do it again. Anyway, their relationship status seemed to be getting cloudier by the day, and she wasn't sure attempting to put some kind of label or categorization on it right this moment would do anything but hinder the excellent progress they'd been making up to this point.

* * *

When Castle finally reappeared twenty minutes later, Kate was a bundle of nerves. She had a magazine spread open on her lap to facilitate the pretense that she was reading; feigning deeply engrossed in an article about the Deepwater Horizon oil disaster in the Gulf of Mexico. This ruse was a necessary bluff to protect her sanity from the seemingly unending stream of consciousness coming from the receptionist - Norma was her name - on the myriad benefits and demerits of "young love today".

She rose the second the door opened, snapping to attention as if someone had barked _ten-hut_. Though Castle had been informed that she was waiting for him, he still looked shocked to see her standing there, the open copy of Newsweek dangling from one hand like a limp flag of convenience.

She smiled wanly, beginning to wonder if he was expecting her at all. She ended up tapping her fingers to her own chest and mouthing the words, _"your wife,"_ to him silently, so that he'd bypass the misunderstanding without upsetting the bubbly, romance-soaked sexagenarian beaming at them both from behind her desk.

"Isn't he a handsome fellow," Norma cooed at Kate, titling her head to one side when she switched viewpoints once more in favor of gazing longingly at the writer.

"Isn't he just," answered Kate, unable to help herself or the grin that formed on her face.

"And so talented," added Norma, beaming at Castle as a mother might beam at her own gifted progeny.

"No doubt about that," Kate replied, drawing a creeped out stare of confusion from her partner.

"I guess we should really get going," Kate offered by way of low-tech extraction plan from this increasingly awkward situation.

She tried to help him on with his jacket, giving up immediately when he shrugged her off lest Norma catch the air of tension between them and rush to offer her services as a couples counselor; one of her many hidden talents apparently.

"See y'all next week then. Be good! And keep up those exercises, Mr. Castle," called Norma as they made their way out of the physical therapy suite and back into the building's dark hallway.

* * *

"You're late," said Kate, once they stood outside facing one another.

_I could say the same thing about you_, thought Castle, wisely opting for, "I was told my wife was waiting for me outside," instead.

Kate scuffed the floor with her shoe in discomfort. "Yeah, about that—"

But Castle carried on. "Since my second wife is dead, that only left my first. So I might have...dallied a little."

She snapped her head up to look at him, accusingly. "Wait. You…you were _hiding_ from Meredith? Leaving _me_ to fend for myself with Barbara Cartland in there?" she asked, angrily jabbing her finger towards the door they'd just exited.

"Unless you and I got married and I'm in the dark, which I very much doubt would be the case…" He took a breath. "Yes, I thought she meant Meredith and…yes, I was hiding."

Kate rolled her eyes and blew up her bangs in exasperation.

"Come on. You've met her. You'd hide too if you were me," Castle argued, attempting to mitigate his own behavior.

Kate frowned, slapping a hand to her forehead. "Oh, God! I cannot _wait_ for this day to be over."

"I know the feeling," Castle rebutted, grimly heading off down the hallway leaving her standing alone.

"Not as well as I do," Kate muttered, hurrying after him.

"Why are you even here?" snapped Castle, without losing speed.

Kate ignored his testy question and launched in with a topic change of her own. "You spoke to Esposito, I hear," she said, as soon as she caught up with him.

Castle looked tense, the tendons and muscles in his face and neck clenching and flexing over and over. "Not quite accurate. He ambushed me."

"Right. Yes, of course. Listen, he was being protective…of me. But that's still no excuse."

"No, it isn't. You should have told me yourself," he corrected, risking a sharp, sidelong glance in her direction.

Kate reached out and caught hold of his good arm, towing him to a gentle stop. "Told you what?"

Castle spun to face her. "The reason behind your little caffeine detox."

Kate shook her head, willing him to lay it out for her so she could set him straight the right way - with actual facts. So she pressed him. "What reason?"

"That you and Demming had a little—" Castle paused and his jaw hardened when he let his eyes slip down to linger on her abdomen for a second or two. Then he took a deep breath. "A scare. At least I assume it was just a scare and you're not still…"

He finally ran out of steam, unable to even contemplate the possibility that she might be still pregnant with the robbery detective's child, let alone say the actual words.

* * *

Kate straighten her spine and took a deep breath. "I gave up coffee…" and then she let that breath out, "…because it reminded me of you."

Castle stared back at her, his eyes briefly flickering over her lips. "Me?" he asked dumbly, jabbing his chest with his own thumb, something Neanderthal or chimp-like in the gesture.

She nodded, her whole face softening.

"All those cups you used to bring me. The perfect temperature, skim milk, sugar-free vanilla syrup, _two_ pumps not just one…the whole thing. The way you got it exactly right…just how I like it. They were like a gift, Castle. So thoughtful."

Her voiced hardened. "And then you were gone. Away. _For a whole summer._ On vacation with someone else. Your ex-wife, for _God's sake_," she said, raising her voice for just a moment to allow some of the old hurt and anger to bleed out again. "I didn't need another reminder. Your empty chair was bad enough. Just..._sitting there_, taunting me. And so I took that chair and I—"

"But you love coffee," he stated plainly, as if the world no longer made any sense without Kate Beckett single-handedly propping up the city's caffeine intake.

_But you love coffee._

Kate gave Castle a long, meaningful look before she replied, boldly holding his stare for several seconds past the point she would normally deem comfortable just so that he would get it; so he would understand the meaning behind that act of self-deprivation.

"Exactly."

The man was a master of deduction. He looked struck for a second before he asked, "Kate, does that mean—"

He paused and she paused with him, letting it all sink in.

_I love that you bring me coffee. I love..._

Nearly there, she just needed a little more time before implied meanings became words that she could boldly articulate. But she _was_ getting there. Just a couple of years into this and he was breaching her barriers, trampling over her boundaries. And her willingness to capitulate, to not stand and fight his one-man invasion surprised her every day. Given just a little more time, she'd be the goddamn welcoming committee, standing at the top of the stairs with banners, flags and streamers…the whole enchilada.

But for now she kept it simple and confessional.

"I didn't want to care anymore…to be reminded of what I'd just allowed to walk out of my life. _You_, Castle. So I took your chair and I banished it to the janitor's storeroom," she admitted, feeling shame for once.

Castle did a double take. "You _moved my chair_?"

Kate nodded contritely.

"But today it was—"

"I brought it back. I went straight there after I left the hospital…first thing I did. Rescued your chair."

"Was it in danger?"

She wanted to laugh at his sense of dramatic flair, even over a scabby old piece of worn-out, department issue furniture; a chair that was actually an affront to everything Castle had given the NYPD these last two years. It was an insult of a chair. But he was attached and now maybe so was she…

"It wasn't in the closet anymore," Kate admitted, trying not to laugh when he balked at this information too, eyes flying wide as whirlpools.

"_What?_"

"Took some tracking down, believe me. Challenged all my powers of detection. But I finally found it out in the yard," Kate confessed with a twinkle in her eye.

Castle looked at her uncomprehendingly. She might as well have been speaking Croatian at this point. "The yard? What yard?"

"Out back. The impound where they fix our cars and strip down seizures looking for drugs, evidence…whatever. One of the mechanics was using your chair as a rest for his toolbox. There was an oil stain…"

"_A stain!"_

Kate winced. "I had it cleaned."

One kind gesture and the whole temperature changed. With him that was all it took – one kind gesture to show that he mattered. That he mattered to her. Sad really for what it said about the value he placed upon himself – always giving but expecting so little from others in return.

"My old, worn, tatty chair? You had it cleaned? For me?" he beamed.

Kate shrugged. "Who else? It's your chair, Castle."

* * *

They began to walk after that, as if some blockage had been released by this conversation; some potentially fatal thrombosis broken down and flushed without the need for any outside intervention.

"How's your arm?"

"Better. The therapist said I'm doing a good job with my exercises."

"Great." Kate was genuinely relieved.

She jabbed the elevator button and then studied the floor, weighing and measuring the right words to use next.

"Think you might be up for some desk duty? Keep me company while I fill out paperwork?" she asked shyly, risking a peep at his face to study his expression as he processed this suggestion.

He looked startled. "You want— Are you asking me to come back early?"

Kate nodded. "But only if you're up for it. And if we go out for any reason, you have to stay in the car. For _real_ this time, Castle. I mean it."

He grinned, a try-and-stop-me look on his face. "I'm honored you want me to," he confessed, suddenly a little choked.

"I miss you."

He made a faltering move towards the open elevator car, losing his rhythm for a second and then almost immediately falling back in step with her as they stepped through the doors, before he spoke again.

"We see each other all the time."

"Doesn't matter. Turns out I still miss you," she added bravely, spinning to face front.

"You just want some decent coffee, right?" he joked, bumping her shoulder with his own.

They both laughed at this, a surprised chuckle that grew into something hale and hearty. Their laughter was like a stone dropped into a millpond, concentric circles radiating outward to mimic the spread of goofy grins across their faces.

"Come back and I will drink nothing but tea if that's what it takes to prove to you that I'd rather have you sit by my desk than have you bring me fancy coffee every morning."

Castle smiled a secret, utterly delighted smile - eyes trained on his shoes the whole time - before he straightened up and said, "No need. I can do both."

"Oh, thank God," Kate blurted instantly, a hand pressed to her chest in relief. "Those caffeine withdrawal headaches are a bitch."

* * *

They walked out of the elevator together, crossed the shiny lobby, and somehow found themselves out on the sun-warmed street, still laughing quietly at Kate's risky bluff.

"Can we sit for a minute?" Castle asked, pointing to a bench just a few yards away on the other side of the road. "Would you mind?"

"Sure. Are you tired?"

"No. I wanted to show you something."

They crossed the street into Union Square itself, choosing to walk a little further across the square after eschewing the first couple of dirty benches they passed, preferring to take a seat on the low wall that curved around behind the statue of George Washington sitting astride his horse.

"This came in the mail today," Castle explained, digging into the inside pocket of his jacket for something he was clearly unable to reach, given the wincing and painful hissing sounds he was making.

Kate slid closer along the wall until their thighs were touching, and then she gestured towards his open jacket. "You look like you're gonna do yourself another injury there, Castle. Allow me?"

He nodded in relief, dropping his arm to give her better access to lean across him. "So...is this how stop-and-frisk works at the sharp end, detective, out here on the mean streets of New York City?" he asked, his tone turning unabashedly flirtatious with her.

Kate smiled back helplessly, her hand now buried deep within the warm confines of his summer weight sport coat, the back of her knuckles brushing right over his galloping heart.

"Heart's going some there, Sir," she grinned, hamming it up just for laughs. "Seems like you might be guilty of something. Maybe you should empty your pockets for me?"

"And maybe you could just...pat me down instead," countered Castle, quirking one eyebrow suggestively.

Kate licked her lips and swallowed hard, the sound appearing monstrously loud in her own ears.

Castle studied her face. His gaze quickly turned heated, and when he wet his lower lip by sucking on it, Kate froze with her eyes fixed on his mouth. Her hand was still secreted inside his jacket, their sides mashed together on the low wall with all of Manhattan buzzing about its business to the north, south, east and west of them.

The tension between them was exquisite, magical, as everything else just fell away in the warm sun of a late June afternoon. Kate let her hand drop to Castle's knee and her forehead hit his shoulder as she turned into him and surrendered to the moment. She closed her eyes and breathed out slowly when he bent his head down, curving himself around her to press a kiss the top of her head and then smooth his good hand over the back of her silky hair, massaging her scalp with his fingers. They stayed that way for several more seconds, breathing each other in, before Kate squeezed his thigh and sat upright again.

She cleared her throat, her cheeks pink as overripe peaches, and then she handed him a white envelope that had been folded in half. "Is this what you were looking for?"

Castle stared at her with such naked longing before he too seemed to snap out of his trance, glancing down to find the envelope in question resting in his open palm with no idea how or when it got there. He cleared his throat and gestured for her to open it up and read the contents.

* * *

Kate concentrated as she read, that adorable little pause mark that he loved, two parallel lines sitting side-by-side, etched into the skin between her eyebrows by her frown. "They...this _clears_ you, Castle," she exclaimed excitedly, looking up and watching him begin to nod.

The letter was from the Nassau County Prosecutor's Office confirming that no criminal charges would be brought in the matter of the fatal road accident that had killed Gina Griffin.

"Were you worried?" Kate asked, carefully folding the letter back up and returning it to its envelope.

"A little," he admitted, looking far graver than those two insignificant words suggested.

"Oh, Rick," she sighed. "You should have said something," she gently chided, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze of solidarity. "I...we've spent so much time together lately and you said...nothing. Why? You can talk to me, you know. About anything."

Castle rubbed his hand over his face, like someone attempting to erase the physical traces of exhaustion. "My lawyer said not to be. Not to worry. But those cops in the hospital went at it pretty hard, Kate. You saw. You were there. That interview stuck with me. And then they went over my car again and again, requested maintenance records from my mechanic, they went to Mercedes looking for faults, aftermarket alterations...anything the could find. They even hired an independent forensic road traffic investigator...I mean I didn't even know there was such a thing," he exclaimed, shifting position on the wall slightly so that he could better look at Kate. "You know they went so far as to suggest to my lawyer that by paying for Gina's funeral I was admitting some culpability?"

Kate lightly covered the back of his hand with her fingers where it rested on top his thigh, and she shook her head sorrowfully. "Castle, I'm so sorry you had to go through that. Any road traffic death and they have to investigate thoroughly, of course. Insurance fraud is rife, payouts to victims families can run into the millions. But there did seem to be something more personal about their crusade this time, I will admit."

Abruptly, he sat up straight, as if physically shaking it off. "I'm just glad it's over."

"I can imagine. That letter draws a clear line under everything. You might be able to grieve properly now and..." Kate shrugged, "...try to move forward with your life, I hope."

Castle hummed thoughtfully, scuffing his shoe over a knobbly stone he spied lying on the ground between his feet. "You've been great about everything, Kate," he told her, flipping his hand beneath hers so that he could curl his fingers around her palm. "I'll never forget what you did for me...how you were there for me with this. Thank you."

"Hey, that's what partners are for, right?" She trotted out this familiar line of theirs in an attempt to shrug off his thanks and lighten up the mood a little as afternoon began to slip into evening.

He nodded his agreement, but they both knew it was about a whole lot more than that. "Right. But you went above and beyond considering... I know it wasn't easy."

She took a deep breath, and then let it go slowly before answering. "You said recently that we owed it to Gina...to make the best of our lives."

"I did."

"Well, maybe Gina's rooting for you wherever she is now," Kate suggested gently, tapping the envelope he held in his hand.

"She always was more of a pompoms on the sidelines than a bullhorn in the bleachers kind of girl," Castle said, allowing himself a rueful smile.

Kate grinned in response. "Somehow that does not surprise me. She had class and poise, I'll give her that."

"And so do you."

"I might also have my pompoms buried at the back of the closet somewhere," she added, just to see him smile again.

"I am _so_ coming over to your apartment to dig around this weekend."

Kate tutted and shook her head. "Making plans for the weekend already, Castle? Kind of presumptuous, don't you think?" she teased, playfully bumping his shoulder with her own.

"Watch this," he told her, making her frown in confusion.

"What?" she asked, standing as her partner stood, offering her his hand to help her up.

"So…home for dinner?" Castle asked brightly, gesturing in the direction of the loft, that smug smile of presumption written all over his face.

Kate laughed. "I see what you did there. Squash, peas and steak, wasn't it?"

"Yes. You still up for that? Not too presumptuous of me?"

She nodded, smiling helplessly, his point well made. "Okay, drop it. Dinner and then _Blue Valentine_?"

Castle suddenly looked a little uncomfortable. "Oh, yeah. About that—"

Kate narrowed her eyes suspiciously, sensing him backing down from their romantic movie plan for some reason. "What? What is it?"

"I watched the trailer."

"Mm-hmm," hummed Kate, a knowing smile forming on her lips.

Castle rubbed his neck in discomfort. "You think we might need my mother to chaperone after all?"

Kate laughed out loud drawing the attention of several surprised passers-by with her joyful outburst; strangers smiling with her though they had no idea at what. "No, I definitely do not. I think we will do just fine by ourselves. Now, come on. I have a whole lot of chopping to do and you have the manly job of cooking our steaks."

* * *

"We're good, right?" Castle asked once they were a couple of blocks nearer home, happy to amble down Broadway in companionable silence until they got fed up and hailed a southbound cab.

"Yep," agreed Kate, giving him a smile.

"And just to be clear, there never was any pregnancy scare with you and Demming? Am I right?" He couldn't leave the subject behind without knowing for sure.

"Once and for all time, Castle, no scare. And yes. We're good. Hey, I'm your fake wife, remember?" Kate nudged him in fun.

Castle's chest puffed out with pride and relief. "Care to take my arm, fake wife?"

"I'd be honored, Mr. Castle."

And they might have been goofing around for now, flirting over a shared joke that proved them to be far more comfortable with one another than they had been just three weeks ago. But Castle also hoped they might be on a slippery slope from fake wife to actual wife before too long. He'd aim for a year but even that might be pushing it to wait for a proposal. He was utterly smitten, falling more deeply in love with his partner with every passing day. And sometimes it still hurt but the payoff was proving priceless.

Kate Beckett missed him when he wasn't by her side at work. She missed him. And that meant they had a chance.

For right now, he was going home to make dinner with her and then they were going to watch a romantic, sexy movie together. Who knew where things might go from there. But wherever they ended up, the signs were definitely good.

_The End_

* * *

_A/N: Thank you for reading and thank you for caring. _


	13. Chapter 13 - Epilogue (Part 1)

_A/N: This story wouldn't let me go. One reader felt it ended abruptly, others maybe more that the ending sneaked up on stocking feet and surprised them. Anyway, I wondered how they would make the leap from the close friendship they had developed to something more. Would their closeness become a problem? Would Gina's death haunt them? So I decided to explore it a bit further, if you'll indulge me. However, if you felt it was better left where it ended, there is no need to read on. _

* * *

**_Chapter 13 – Epilogue (Part 1)_**

_Three weeks later…_

It happened quite by chance, and she seized the opportunity with both hands.

Castle had been back at the precinct babysitting his chair for three weeks. He actually called it that now, talked to it even, just for the chance to watch Kate laugh and roll her eyes and sometimes even make her blush. Oh, and he had named it too - his chair. He called it "Baby".

"Mommy tried to throw you in the trash. Did I ever tell you that?" he leaned down to whisper to the nubby brown pad of the seat – the foam stuffing flattened by years of strangers, cops, handcuffed perps, witnesses, lawyers, DA's and ADA's sitting by this desk, long before it ever belonged to a certain Detective Kate Beckett. Yes, that foam pad was so flattened now that the bones of Richard Castle's ass pressed hard into the wooden baseboard below whenever he leaned too far back or sat down too heavily. But still he loved that chair for the couple of years' worth of history it had witnessed pass between himself and a certain female detective and for all the progress it had born witness to in turn.

"Shhh," chided Kate, her finger to her lips, though her head was still ducked over a report she was trying to complete. "You'll traumatize her."

Castle's face broke into an immediate grin and he rested one elbow on her desk. "_Her?_" he asked, leaning in close so that only Kate could hear their discussion.

"Her, it…whatever," muttered Kate, batting him away even as she kept her eyes trained on the paperwork in front of her, this gesture of dismissal utterly at odds with the girly smile on her face.

"No, Kate. I distinctly heard you say "her". Now what would make you assume that my chair – hitherto known as Baby – is a girl?"

Kate took a breath and sat back in her own chair, stretching her arms above her head since clearly her focus had been broken and it was time to take a break. She thought about the question for a second. "I don't know," she shrugged, trying to act nonchalant despite the attractive heat warming her cheeks.

She knew. Castle knew. Castle knew she knew he knew. They were both on the same page in other words, but each was waiting for the other to blink first.

"Come on, Kate. Figure it out. I know you know. Or do you want me to walk you through it?" he needled, illustrating his offer with the comic march of his fingers along the edge of her desk.

* * *

He had played "name the chair" one very slow morning, Googling lists of the most popular baby names for boys on his phone. When Kate had argued for a little equality, a discussion had broken out over their favorite baby names, turning up the interesting fact that while Kate had several names picked out for little girls, she had no boys names on her list. Since they couldn't agree, the chair had acquired the gender-neutral title "Baby", much to the amusement of Ryan and Esposito, who told them mom and dad would make terrible parents if they couldn't even agree on a name for their kid. Kate had then reminded them all a little tartly that it was really just a tatty old piece of furniture, before flouncing off in feigned contempt. But her act fooled no one, least of all Castle, who could spot a hankering for a baby girl a mile off through thick fog when it came to divining Kate Beckett's moods and motivations.

"No. I really don't," she said now, standing abruptly. She softened her expression when she saw the flash of alarm cross his face at her sudden movement and she touched his shoulder on the way past. "I'm getting another coffee. You want one?" she asked, heading for the break room without waiting for a response.

When she'd crossed the floor and still heard nothing, she turned around, leaning on the break room doorframe and held up her own empty mug. "Castle? You want a cup?"

He seemed to partially snap out of whatever reverie he'd tumbled into, and, waving his hand vaguely in her direction, replied, "Be right there."

"Oh, great," muttered Kate under her breath, heading straight for the coffee machine to begin grinding more beans. No escape even in here.

Because of the noise she didn't hear him when he came in.

"Why did you—"

"Because you said _mommy_ and I immediately thought _she_. Word association, Castle. That's all. No big mystery."

No messing around then.

Castle didn't hide his surprise. "Wow!"

"What?"

"I just wasn't expecting…"

"For me to be honest?"

"That, yes. I guess."

"I thought we were making progress."

"We are."

"But?"

He stroked his chin in thoughtful contemplation. "We seem to have…stalled. Don't you think?"

Kate grabbed the metal jug, filled it with milk and began to froth, finding the harsh rush of noise unexpectedly soothing; something she could hide behind. She raised her voice to be heard. "Stalled as in?"

"Becalmed, mired, stuck, dithering, suspended…shelved?"

"Castle, I know what stalled means. I was asking what _you_ meant by it."

He fiddled with a sugar packet, smacking one end against the counter to free up the compacted grains. "We're both on board the good ship Caskett, but our sails are luffing in the breeze."

She choked on a laugh, throwing him a glance over her shoulder. "_Caskett?_ As in…?"

"Castle and Beckett," Castle nodded, grinning at Kate's amusement despite the difficult waters their discussion had strayed into.

"You come up with that or did they?" she asked, thumbing over her shoulder to indicate Ryan and Esposito.

"Nope. All me."

"Guess this is what I get for being in a relationship with a writer."

Castle lent in against the countertop so that he could see her face, using her opener to burrow in deeper. "Are we though?"

"Hmm?" Kate hummed absently, peering into the milk jug.

"In a relationship?" Castle clarified.

She frowned, though her back was to him now so that he couldn't see her face. "You don't think we are? Is there someone else?" she asked tersely, testing the waters. This was a thought that had preoccupied her lately, given everything. And her stomach muscles clenched with unease now as she braced for her partner's reply.

He answered immediately. "No! _You?_" Castle sounded more terrified at that prospect than Kate even felt.

"Absolutely not."

He slumped against one of the high top tables, perhaps displaying his relief. "Then what's going on, Kate? We're both adults. Did I miss something? Do you just want us to be friends, is that it? We've hit our plateau?"

Kate looked away, embarrassed, because he had a point. "You're still grieving. It didn't seem appropriate."

Never the right time, she wanted to add, because that was also true.

He had faced dark days the last few weeks, that was a fact, and Kate was attuned enough to his moods and his way of thinking that she caught on far faster to the reason for these bouts of melancholy than his mother or his daughter ever did. On days when she saw the storm clouds gathering in the distance she simply left him alone. Texted if they had a case, but left it up to him if he wanted to come in or not, and she made sure she was never the one to suggest they spent time together outside of the precinct, giving him enough space to process his feelings, until his guilt and the complex sense of loss he was working through had passed. He knew she was there if he needed to talk, she'd made that clear from the beginning, but she didn't push for anything more.

"But…that's still your intention, right? Us?" he asked, without admitting to her point about his grief, since they both knew she was bang on the money.

She spun to glare at him and then quickly turned away again as the milk roiled, bubbled and climbed the sides of the jug, threatening to boil over. "Castle, what kind of question is that?"

"An honest one."

"Do you mean am I getting tired of waiting or something?"

She knew no timetable for this. Having been through the grief process herself, she understood that each person's journey was different, personal, and this situation was beyond complicated given how the summer had started out and the players involved. But grief, for Kate Beckett, was entirely relatable; a lurking specter that had cast a long, tall shadow over her entire adult life. So that was one thing she did understand; and it was the one thing you didn't mess with either.

What she did know was that they had reached an infinitely improved personal relationship in spite or maybe even because of everything. They were closer, they trusted one another completely and they talked more freely than they had before the debacle of the Memorial Day Weekend invite. But had this intimacy blunted their edge, leaving them with little left to seek? Had they become too close, too comfortable, too domesticated?

Was she tired of waiting, like Castle had suggested? Or had she simply stopped expecting fireworks and settled; settled for something warm, comfortable and safe instead?

"When you put it like that sounds like role reversal," Castle pointed out. The stereotypical male tired of waiting.

"What? Like something a woman would say?" she asked, curious because Castle didn't typically think in gender stereotypes or if he did he tended not to express those thoughts out loud, at least not in front of Kate and certainly not at the precinct.

"Mm," he hummed noncommittally, not offering anything further, neither digging a deeper hole nor exactly scrambling out.

Kate arched her eyebrow in amused recognition. "If the shoe fits, Castle. You always were more in touch with your feelings than me."

"Very funny, Beckett."

Except she wasn't exactly laughing because it was true, and if he wasn't actually more in touch with his feelings he had certainly figured out how better to express them.

* * *

Kate decided to take the pressure off, to take the sting out of this out-of-the-blue back-and-forth before Castle could get hurt or petulant over a conversation they shouldn't even be having at work. "Look…it doesn't feel like waiting to me. We spend a lot of time together…evenings, weekends…we make dinner, I stay over at your place sometimes…"

"In the guest room."

"We went grocery shopping last Saturday. Your doorman nearly had a heart attack. I even did your laundry when you crashed on my couch a week ago," she reminded him, stockpiling evidence of their almost-relationship.

"Yes. But that's not exactly…I mean—" He floundered for what to say, for how to put it.

Kate stepped in to clear up any misunderstanding. "Pretty much the only thing we're _not_ doing at this point is sleeping together."

Before Castle could say that that was pretty much his point in a nutshell, a familiar voice made them both jump.

"Who's sleeping together? Is it Karpowski and Jenkins? Cause I have _big _money on them."

Esposito appeared without warning and Kate felt her heart sink as she watched the massive disappointment at their interrupted private talk suck the light out of Castle's eyes.

Kate shook her head in exasperation at Esposito, gave Castle a long, meaning-filled stare meant to telegraph - _we're not done here, we'll be picking this up later_ \- and then she swept out of the break room without her coffee.

"What I say?" asked Esposito, feeling the temperature drop several degrees as he turned to watch her go.

Castle also watched Kate walk away until he couldn't see her anymore, then he turned his back, mumbled, "Nothing. Forget it," and resumed making the coffee that Kate had abandoned.

Esposito waited for a second, and when Castle offered no further explanation he too left the break room.

* * *

Kate sat at her desk stewing over the interruption and the many implications arising from that can-of-worms discussion. Their blossoming friendship had masked something, it was true. But was it now becoming a problem? Were they too comfortable with one another? Too domesticated? Was that possible? Had the heat gone out already before that particular fire could spark and burn?

"Kate, do we have a problem here?" Castle asked, leaning down so close to her as he placed her coffee on her desk that she felt the warmth of his breath rush down her neck when he spoke. Her skin tingled and her heart jolted, reminding her that the heat she felt whenever he got this close was still all too real. She'd put her personal need on the back burner for his sake. It was reassuring to know that he seemed to feel the same way.

She reached out instinctively to cover his hand with her own; another gesture of affection that, it struck her in that moment, might actually be more counterproductive than reassuring. Like the lingering hugs they seemed to have slipped into at the end of a difficult case or the shoulder massages after a long day of paperwork that had kept her chained to her desk, or the foot rubs on nights when he stole her heels and hid them behind the sofa because he couldn't bear for her to go home just yet. All these little gestures of caring and affection that might actually have been holding them back from the ultimate act of intimacy, both physical and emotional. And that's before you got to the memory of Gina Griffin still hovering over every happy moment they shared.

Before she could even answer him, Captain Montgomery popped his head out of his office and called out, "Detective? A word."

Kate snatched her hand back before the Captain could see, sighed and pushed her fresh cup of coffee aside as she stood. "I am never getting to drink this today," she muttered, lightly brushing Castle's arm with her fingertips as she passed. "We're going to be fine, okay?" she added, giving him a long, serious look before she crossed the bullpen to see her boss.

She emerged ten minutes later to brief her team.

"Cops from the City Wide Robbery Unit in Baltimore have our witness, Harmony Cisse, in protective custody."

"They— How? _When?_" clamored Ryan and Esposito.

"A UC caught her shoplifting baby formula from a minimart in Jonestown a couple of hours ago. Just strolling out the door with a giant tin of Enfamil tucked under her arm, apparently. Brazen as you like."

"She has a kid? But she's like…fourteen, fifteen?" said Esposito.

"The formula was for cutting coke. She's been staying with her cousin Tanika since she ran the day after the shooting. Tanika's boyfriend is one Deshawn Brown, also know as "Bobby Brown" to his friends, local Drug Squad, not to mention his many loyal customers."

"Bobby?" probed Ryan, sharing a confused look with Esposito.

Kate shrugged. "Like street names always make sense? Anyway, Baltimore PD ran her through the system and caught our BOLO. She has an outstanding warrant for petit larceny back in New York, as we know, along with a failure to appear on an assault that took place at a nail salon in the Bronx between Harmony and the salon's owner, Lucy Lee Fung."

"Envy Nails on W184th Street was not the envy of anyone the day Harmony Cisse showed up and caused a ruckus," said Esposito.

"Not to mention a helluva lot of damage, according to the arrest report," added Ryan, passing the paperwork over to Castle for him to read.

"Exactly. They're using these outstanding warrants to hold her for now. Given her past, I do not expect her to come quietly nor do I anticipate she will be any kind of willing witness," Kate laid out. "But at least we have a couple of pieces of leverage to bargain with. I'll call the D.A. and ask him what he's prepared to move on."

"Sounds like a real charmer," noted Castle after he finished reading her file, turning to Kate with concern.

"Yeah, well, teenage girls can behave like wildcats when they're cornered sometimes. They often have little to lose, figure they're too young to do any major time or they're trying to act tough, impress their friends. Think I can handle it," Kate told him with a sly smile.

She clapped her hands to regain everyone's attention. "Captain want's me to go pick her up so we can interview her about the Jerome Pine shooting. I'll head down there tomorrow afternoon and bring her back with me, once the paperwork and the hog trading is done. In the meantime, I want you guys to focus on finding that weapon. Talk to your C.I.s, offer whatever inducements are needed. That gun was distinctive, someone has to have seen it before, sold it before…maybe even been asked to hold it right now until the heat dies down. They offer it up, there will be no questions asked, no charges brought. You give them your word. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Ryan and Esposito in unison, snapping to attention before breaking into stupid grins and fist bumping one another.

* * *

Kate threw them both a withering look and returned to her desk. Castle sank down in the chair alongside and waited for her to speak.

"Your cast is due off this afternoon. We were going to have a celebration dinner at home with Alexis and Martha tomorrow," she lamented quietly, as she focused on reorganising a stack of files by date of priority.

"We can still do that this weekend."

Kate paused her paper shuffling to glance at him. "You're being very understanding."

"Aren't I always?"

"Well, yeah. But I know you. You also like a good party."

"Like you don't," he teased, nudging her elbow off her desk. "And we can still throw the party, party girl. But the drive might do us good."

Kate froze and then looked up from her notes. "Us?"

"You didn't think I'd let you drive down there to bring back this little hellcat all by yourself, did you?"

"A trip to Baltimore?" Kate set down her pen and leaned back in her chair. "Castle, have you ever been to Baltimore?"

"No, but I've seen every episode of _The Wire_, Five-O."

Kate arched one eyebrow at him. "So you don't need me to tell you how a trip to Baltimore works? In and out."

"There must be some nice parts."

"Oh, I'm sure there are. Just not where they're holding our witness. And this is not a vacation."

"So…no boutique hotel with spa?"

"On the NYPD's dime? Should I ask what you've been smoking?"

Castle leant forward in his seat. "Let me take care of the hotel, Kate?"

"No." She checked her dad's watch and sat up straight. "How about you get to your appointment and let me take care of it."

He looked skeptical. "You're not going to…"

"What?"

"Book us into some crummy motor lodge in the wrong part of town?"

"Castle…"

"Because on _The Wire_—"

Kate crossed her arms over her chest. "How many episodes did you watch?"

"All of them."

"And how many was that exactly?"

"Five seasons, sixty episodes."

"And how many times have you watched it?"

He shrugged. "Maybe like…three times."

Kate nodded as if she expected an answer similar to this. "Uh-huh. So that's close to 180 hours, just for argument's sake, of drug-fueled, jive-talking, Five-O, B-more, row house drudgery."

"And humor."

"Humor?"

"McNulty was hilarious. Bubbles definitely had his moments. Even Beadie could be funny. Though their squad was not nearly as much fun as you guys here at the Twelfth…obviously."

"Obviously," Kate repeated dryly, giving him a look.

* * *

Castle knew when his time was up. He slapped his knee. "Okay, I'm going. I wish you could be there for the big reveal," he said, lifting his injured arm. "Receptionist Norma will be so disappointed."

"Me too. But I have to call the D.A. right away…open negotiations. How about I come by later and we toast your newfound freedom?"

"My two functioning arms? I'd like that, detective."

"Okay, I'll bring the wine."

"Feel like Japanese?" asked Castle.

"Sake it is," grinned Kate.

"Ha ha. I meant food, as well you know."

"Would've thought you'd had enough of chopsticks for a while."

"Maybe I'll order the miso-marinated black cod and use a knife and fork just for fun."

"Really living on the edge there, Castle."

"Hey, we're headed to Baltimore tomorrow to spend the night in some flophouse dive. Who knows where our next meal is coming from or if we'll even make it out alive."

Kate rolled her eyes. "Okay, I don't know what you think you learned from watching TV, but on _my_ road trips, everyone comes back home in one piece."

"Yeah, well, you just better watch out for those corner boys and their reups, Po-Po," the writer warned her as he backed away with a grin on his face.

"Castle, get out of here," chided Kate, still shaking her head even as she lifted the phone to place a call to the D.A.

* * *

In the end, Kate's case got even more complicated with the tie-in of a second victim to the initial homicide late that afternoon: a car mechanic who'd fallen prey to the same M.O. in a location too close to the original crime scene to be just a coincidence. They needed their witness back in New York a.s.a.p. to help the D.A. build a case against the chief suspect so they could get him off the streets and into custody, then hopefully before a grand jury who would indict.

Kate scribbled an address down on her blotter while she waited for the call to connect. "Hey, Castle."

His voice was like molasses down the phone: rich, smooth, viscous and smoky. She shivered when he spoke. "You on your way over? My scars look totally badass."

Kate winced. Letting her forehead drop to the heel of her hand, she closed her eyes, squeezing them tightly shut. "Not exactly. I'm afraid I have some bad news."

"The liquor store ran out of sake?" he quipped, always one for the obvious joke.

She chuckled. "_No._ I have to go to Baltimore tonight, Castle. I'm sorry, but I have to cancel our plans."

There was a brief pause before he spoke, his tone controlled and measured. "I see. That's too bad," he said, carefully trying to conceal his disappointment. "When do you have to leave?"

"I'm just heading home now to pack a bag. I'll pick up the witness early tomorrow and be back by late morning. Maybe we can have lunch at Remy's? You can show me those badass scars then."

She heard the sound shift as she listened for his response to her suggestion, as if Castle has just got up and was now moving around.

"Go home, Kate. Pack your bag and then come by and pick me up."

She protested immediately. "Castle—"

"Text me when you leave, Beckett. I'll be waiting by the curb. You won't even have to come up. If we take the Holland Tunnel it's exactly on your way."

She was sorely tempted just to let him persuade her. "But you just got your cast off."

"And I can sit in a car and keep you company without using my arm."

"You're not going to give up, are you?"

"Give me one good reason why I should?"

"You must be tired."

"So I can sleep on the road. You can sing to me."

"Okay, there will be _no_ singing."

Score one for Rick Castle.

She heard him grin when he said, "See you in forty minutes, Kate."

"Better make it an hour."

"And I always took you for a fast packer."

"I was thinking of you, Mr. Metrosexual. And it's only _one night_, remember? You can leave you eye cream at home," she teased, before hanging up.

* * *

Kate went online from her desk and booked a hotel for the night, before picking up the paperwork she needed and heading back to her apartment to pack an overnight bag.

Castle was waiting in the shadow of his doorway, as promised, an expensive-looking brown leather weekend bag sitting by his feet.

"You didn't even ask why we have to do this tonight," Kate pointed out as he buckled himself in and wriggled around to get comfortable.

"Because I know with you it won't be some frivolous reason. _And_ you were totally hot for that miso black cod."

She glanced at him as she cut off Broome Street and onto Watts to pick up the entrance to the Holland Tunnel. "Frivolous. Like? Like what would that even be?"

He shrugged good-naturedly. "I don't know. You wanted to go late to the avoid traffic."

"No, that's just a dumb, practical reason. You said frivolous."

"Are we going to argue the whole three hours?" he chuckled, giving her an amused look.

"Just answer the question please, Sir."

"Oh, someone's been sparring with the D.A. all afternoon." Castle gently rubbed his hands together, enjoying the fact that he could. "Okay, counselor. Challenge accepted." He thought for a moment. "Maybe you booked a massage in Baltimore and they only had a slot open tonight. That would be frivolous. Or…or…I don't know. There's some _amazing_ 80% off shoe sale first thing tomorrow morning?"

Kate cut her eyes his way and shook her head. "That you can even come up with these is kind of scary."

He shrugged. "I'm a writer. I make up all sorts of stuff all the time."

"How could I forget?"

"Some of which proves eerily effective at times," he pointedly reminded her.

"Amen to that."

* * *

Kate did indeed drive through the Holland Tunnel and then she took the New Jersey Turnpike heading south, finally picking up I-95, which would take them all the way down to Baltimore, MD. Castle chattered on about his visit to the physical therapist, regaling Kate with a hilarious sketch where he acted out exactly how the receptionist, Norma, had asked after his "beautiful wife, Kate".

"I still feel kind of guilty for not coming clean with her," Kate admitted, keeping her eyes trained on the road.

Castle looked at her like she was crazy. "_What?"_ he exclaimed. "And destroy Norma's romantic illusions? No way."

Kate let that thought sink in – that she and Castle were nothing more than a romantic illusion. She supposed it was true if you looked at the bare facts. The whispers around their relationship status had intensified at the Twelfth since they had begun spending so much time together outside of work. The odd light touch arising from their physical familiarity with one another - boundaries worn thin over time and closeness forged - hadn't gone unnoticed in the bullpen. Kate caught the nudges and the winks that passed between Ryan and Esposito often enough.

Turning up in the early hours to a couple of crimes scenes, at least one of them still wearing the same clothes from the day before, had definitely added fuel to the fire. Innocent though these incidents had been – Kate had stayed in Castle's guest room one night after a late dinner, and Castle had fallen asleep on her couch after a movie one night when they got a call-out around 1am - they had still raised eyebrows amongst their team, even generating a couple of salacious, slightly catty remarks from Lanie. She wouldn't have minded so much, but there really was not much happening on the romance front between them, despite a stated aim to honor Gina's death by making the most of their lives, which had contained an implicit and at times explicit desire to start a full relationship with one another.

An hour and a half into their journey Kate noticed the running commentary from the shotgun seat had gone silent. A glance at her partner confirmed that he had indeed fallen asleep. With a good wind and no late construction or heavy traffic on the interstate they'd be at their destination around ten. Just enough time to grab a late snack, take a shower and turn in for the night.

She smiled to herself, stretching her neck this way and that and then rolling her shoulders to relieve the tension of the day as she contemplated the hours to come. She was in the driving seat, literally and figuratively this time, and Castle didn't know what was about to hit him.

* * *

The Four Seasons Hotel overlooked Baltimore's Inner Harbor. The ramp out front allowed Kate to pull right up to the door, undercover beneath the plaster pillars and soaring portico as soft summer rain fell outside. The air was warm and ripe with the smell of damp earth and careful planting in the landscaped garden out front, along with the faintest whiff of sewage coming off the water.

She unfastened her seatbelt and swiveled her knees towards the console, arching her back as she did so to free up her muscles after the long drive. She watched as Castle continue to doze, his head turned away from her so that she mostly viewed his face in profile; strong features that fit him well, softened around the edges by the benefits of carefree rest.

She shifted closer, resting her hand on the back of Castle's seat, fingers curling around the rest behind his head. "Hey, Rick," she whispered, grinning when he simply smiled at the sound of her voice softly calling his name. She tried again. "Castle, we're here. Wake up."

He opened his mouth and closed it a few times, making slapping, tasting sounds with his tongue. Kate stifled a giggle. "Sleeping beauty, your carriage is about to turn back into a pumpkin."

He cracked one eye open at that. "I think you mean Cinderella."

Kate shrugged. "I didn't think they made glass slippers in your size."

Before they could argue over this wanton mixing of fairytales, Kate's door was opened by a liveried bellboy. "Welcome to _Four Seasons Baltimore_, ma'am. Will you be checking in with us this evening?"

Kate nodded and smiled, taking her keys out of the ignition and handing them to the bellboy. "Yes, we have a reservation. Our bags are in the trunk," she told the young man, stretching her legs and back once she stood out beneath the canopy.

Castle got out too at this point and stood blinking at her over the roof of the car. He looked up, confirming that they were indeed parked outside the_ Four Seasons_ and not some misspelled rip-off joint; some soundalike a slum hostelry owner had ironically chosen to call "The 4Seezons", one among many you might find a few blocks away on East Fayette Street near the Perkins Homes, where a gun under your pillow was a necessity and not just a perk of the job.

"I thought you said—" he began, cutting his eyes from the chandelier he could see winking at him seductively from the lobby, to Kate's enigmatic face.

"That I would take care of it and I did. Come on, Castle. Before they close the bar for the night," she added, swinging her hips as she sashayed through the revolving doors and into the shiny marble and glass lobby as if she was born to such luxury, while her partner stood gaping at her from the carport outside.

* * *

"Checking in?" beamed the primed, efficient-looking young Frenchman behind the front desk.

"Please." Kate opened her wallet and slid her credit card and I.D. across the counter.

Soothing muzak filled the lobby with light, white noise akin to a Michael Bublé soundtrack.

"And the name?" asked the young man, whose own name was Sylvain, already tapping hard at the computer keyboard, though what he could be typing since he had no details yet baffled Kate.

"Beckett," she said, giving him a confident smile. The fact that her cheeks were stiff and her facial muscles close to spasm was irrelevant, so long as Castle didn't catch a glimpse and figure out how nervous she was.

"Ah, Mrs. Beckett," he beamed, eyes trained on the screen until he found her reservation. "Very good. We have you booked in for one night with us in one of our water-view rooms."

"That's actually _Miss_ Beckett…" she clarified, wondering if this detail really matter in the scheme of things.

"My apologies, Miss Beckett. One water-view room, bed and breakfast for one night only." He glanced over at Castle who was standing nearby staring in wonder at the opulent lobby as if he'd never been inside a five star hotel before. "And…no children?" asked the check-in agent, cutting his eyes back to Kate.

She tensed just slightly, almost imperceptively. "No. Just the two of us."

Sylvain tapped some more before looking up at her with a glowing smile. "Excellent. You didn't specify when you booked whether you preferred a room with a king bed or two double beds?"

Kate checked on Castle, who still seemed lost in thought, and then she leaned in close. "King bed, please?" she managed, almost without blushing.

"Very good," replied the check-in agent, discreetly checking the system. "In that case I can upgrade you to one of our lovely Water-View rooms with a balcony at no extra charge, since you're checking in so late. Will either of you be needing a wake up call in the morning?"

Kate shook her head, no longer trusting her voice, her heart running a mile a minute.

"Newspaper?"

"No, just the key is fine," she muttered through gritted teeth, trying to conceal her nerves and impatience.

"Lovely. Then you're all set. Room #1547," he said, sliding the key card across the top of the marble counter inside its little cardboard wallet. "That's on the fifteenth floor. The bar is open until midnight, the restaurant closed at ten, I'm afraid. But you can order from the room service menu round the clock. Charlie will show you up to your room and take care of your luggage."

"Actually, we can manage our own luggage. Can you just point me in the direction of the elevator?" asked Kate, desperate by now to get somewhere private before Castle figured out her plan or she lost her nerve and asked for two double beds or even a second room.

"As you wish. The elevators are over to your right. Just slide your key card into the control panel and select your floor. I hope you enjoy your stay with us, Miss Beckett. Thank you for choosing Four Seasons Baltimore, ma'am."

* * *

Kate lifted both their overnight bags from the bellboy's cart, tipping him heavily to get rid of him. Then she made for the elevators.

Castle trailed after her, rubbing gently at the wrist on his recently healed arm. He looked slightly disheveled after his snooze in the car, his hair sticking up on one side where he'd rested his head against the window for part of the trip. "Are they fully booked? Kate? Did you get the last room?"

So he hadn't been oblivious to the entirety of her transaction at the front desk.

Kate waited until they were inside the elevator, the doors already closing on them, before she replied. "No. I only booked one room."

The elevator rose at speed, leaving her stomach somewhere down near the sparkling lobby.

"Right. Because you planned on coming alone?" he asked, frowning in puzzlement, wondering why she simply hadn't changed the booking with the front desk clerk once they got here.

"No. I made the reservation _after _you said you wanted to come," she explained in a voice as calm and inflection-free as she could muster.

Her partner looked endearingly confused by this answer. "I see."

Only he didn't. Not really.

"Come on. The view of Inner Harbor's supposed to be amazing at night," she said, gripping both their bags even tighter as she stepped off the elevator on the fifteenth floor and out into their corridor.

"The view?" muttered Castle, obediently following after her, seemingly oblivious to her role as substitute bellboy as he continued to wrestle with the puzzle of whom would be sleeping where and why Kate wasn't rushing to fix this looming problem for herself.

_TBC..._


	14. Chapter 14 - Epilogue (Part 2)

_A/N: So happy people were glad to have an epilogue (or three) to this story. Not feeling great at the moment, so writing has been limited. Bear with me if you can._

* * *

**_Chapter 14 – Epilogue (Part 2)_**

The click of the electronic keycard in the lock was what finally did it. Suddenly Castle seemed to wake from his sleepy stupor, noted the two overnight bags at Kate's feet and heard the echo of her most recently spoken words ringing in his ear.

"Come on. The view of Inner Harbor's supposed to be amazing at night."

He followed her into the hotel room, carrying both their bags this time like the gentleman he was. His arm ached, but he didn't let it show until he had carted the bags to the luggage rack positioned on the far wall and dumped them down.

He sucked in a breath as he rubbed his throbbing wrist, a sound Kate misconstrued for wonder at the view, which she was already heavily engaged in admiring, close up through the large-paned, floor-to-ceiling windows.

"I know. Isn't it amazing?" she said, swishing back one side of the toile curtains to get a better look. The fingers of her left hand splayed delicately against the still-warm glass as she peered out at the scene below.

Oh.

Castle reached for a light switch, but Kate stopped him with a sharp request of, "No, leave them off…please?"

It was dark in the luxurious bedroom save for the twinkling lights of Inner Harbor floating in the blackness below them. Like expertly cut and polished gemstones displayed on a jeweler's pad of black velvet, they glowed. And those colorful, glittering pinpoints of light swimming out there in the darkness were complimented by the ghostly pearl luster given off by the gauzy white drapes, both aiding Castle to make out subtle clues about the room. The décor was elegant and contemporary, creamy earth tones for the most part, accented with linens and drapes in hues of duck egg blue and gold.

"You have a balcony?" he noted, while Kate noted the use of the personal pronoun "you" and not "we".

"Yes, we do. The front desk guy upgraded us," she said, stressing the plural pronoun in what she hoped was a sharing and not a petty manner. "Perks of a late check-in, I guess."

Castle tore his eyes away from the view to regard his partner, her tall, slender, upright frame silhouetted against the dark glass. "Kate, what exactly are we doing here?"

If there was any tension, any bewilderment or accusation in Castle's voice, Kate missed it entirely or she simply chose to ignore it to stick with her own agenda.

"Right. I forgot to explain on the phone, and then you dozed off in the car before I could bring you up to speed," she said, turning away from the window to take a seat at the desk on a cream leather task chair that she swiveled round to face the bed. "Sorry."

Castle had backed up towards the bed itself, and now sat perched on the bottom corner, looking down at the floor between his open thighs while she spoke.

"Late this afternoon a second homicide was linked to our main suspect, Djibril Martin. A car mechanic by the name of Ranko Jurić was found shot in the head not a hundred yards from the original crime scene. Hallmarks are identical – caliber, close range, stippling, no cartridge left behind, and because—"

He reached out and gently touched her arm to get her attention. "Hey…"

Kate looked up in surprise, the question already in her eyes. "Hmm?" she frowned.

He shook his head. "I didn't mean the case."

Kate faltered, all fluidity gone from her little catch-up speech, and then she stood up again, heading back towards the window like a moth drawn to a flame; as if she needed to be in motion to discuss anything more personal than the original, official reason for this trip down to Baltimore.

She hugged her arms around her body as she stared out through the warm glass into the night. "Right. You mean why did I book only one hotel room with…" She turned back to look at the king size bed which dominated the center of the room, as if needing to remind herself of the fact of it. "With only one bed?"

Castle rubbed at the back of his neck and cleared his throat. "Yeah, that."

She winced and then gave him what she hoped was a cute, appealing smile. "Can we go downstairs and get a drink first?"

Castle stood, smoothed his hands down the front of his pants, allowing any wrinkles drop out, and then he let out a sigh. "Sure. But to be clear…"

"To be clear, if you want your own room, Castle, or—"

"No. That's not what I want." Castle was calm when he spoke, determined.

"Good. But I want you to know that this is…this is like a…a menu, Rick." She ran a listless hand through her hair. "You can choose whatever you want. From nothing, to a bar snack, a single appetizer or the full three courses. I'm…I'm just trying to help."

"And you're also making me incredibly hungry."

* * *

After a brief pause, Kate laughed. She actually laughed. And there it was – that whole comfort thing back again, though this time they had the space, the anonymity, the privacy and the time to maybe do something else with it; something greater.

"Come on," she held her hand out to him. "Let's go down and get a drink before the barman goes home for the night."

"Oh, but before we go…" Kate went over to the luggage rack, opened her bag and rooted around inside. "Do you have anything you want to put in the safe?" she asked, moving to the closet, crouching down to work out a new code before she could secure her gun and badge inside.

Castle went to fetch his iPad from his own bag. But as soon as he got the zipper open, Kate's overnighter toppled from its precarious spot atop two of the four black straps on the foldout luggage stand.

A box of condoms tumbled out onto the floor. The prophylactics were still wrapped in their original cellophane, aiding their somewhat lubricated skid across the carpet. The cellophane also meant that when Castle picked them up, the wrapper made crinkling noises that were impossible to ignore.

They stared at one another across the room. Kate on her knees with a gun in her hand in front of the open in-room safe, and Castle on his knees holding a brand new box of condoms, an assortment of Kate's personal items also making themselves known at the gaping mouth of her open bag. They made quite a tableau. And if the box of condoms didn't go to intent, then nothing did. It was as if they had bypassed romance and slow seduction in the blink of an eye and gone right for the main deal – like a hooker walking into a hotel room and saying: "$300 for straight sex, $150 for oral. No kissing. Put the money on the table and take your clothes off."* There was simply no ambiguity left, no artifice or pretense that this was anything other than what it was. And, as a result, there was little dignity to be had if you were Kate: a mere fig leaf, if that.

Castle held up the box as if it was a key piece of evidence – which she supposed in a way it was – and then he said, "Planning on having your wicked way with me, Beckett?"

Kate bit her lip, blood already having rushed to color her neck and cheeks.

"Pretty large box you got there," he added, coming onto something of a late night standup routine, maybe profiting a little from her misfortune, though not too unkindly. He read the particulars aloud, to Kate's further mortification, eyebrows shooting upwards as he did so. "36 Trojan Magnum _large_ lubricated condoms. Just how many of these do you think we're going to need for one night away?"

Kate stood, crossed the room to pick her bag up off the floor, snatched the box out of his hands and tossed it back into her overnighter. Then she offered him her hand to help him up off the floor.

"None, if you carry on like that."

Castle chuckled in amusement at her discomfort, at her huffy defensiveness at being caught with something resembling an agenda, not to mention a pretty big smoking gun to go along with. "Oh, come on, Kate. You have to admit, this is pretty funny. And thank you for the compliment by the way. You know…size-wise."

She did the only thing she could do right then: she rolled her eyes at his wink and his large egotistical conceit. "That was the only box I could grab on my way over to pick you up. Duane Reade was closing. You should have seen the dirty look the manageress gave me when she saw the single item I was buying. Like I was some…some high-class madam stocking up on essentials before slinking off to some member's only, underground club to run my own orgy."

Castle gave her a long, slow, appraising look, dragging his eyes over her body from head to toe, before he let his eyebrows shoot up just once to soften the heat behind his somewhat misogynistic assessment. "A role you could excel in, I'm sure. _If_ you ever get tired of the cop thing."

"Thanks…I think," she grinned, even as she shook her head. "And…the cop thing? What is that?"

"Your job, last I heard. And the reason we're here…purportedly."

"Right," she nodded, feeling just a little contrite, if he was really trying to get them back on that track.

Kate needed to put the romance back into this scenario or she could tell from Castle's face that they'd be going back to New York with that box of condoms still unopened. He was amused by how forward she'd been, how underhand in planning all of this, since it was not exactly the MO he had come to expect from her. His role was that of pusher, hers that of pushee. So he was a little bit uncomfortable with how things were playing out so far, an unintended side effect of the premature discovery of her plan, she assumed. At least she hoped that's all it was.

"Come on. Let's go get that drink."

* * *

The bar was close to deserted, which was good on one level and not so comfortable on many others. The low lighting, the mood music, the lone male in a business suit at one end of the bar hunched over a tumbler of whisky, while a lone female sat a few spaces down, the pair like sad bookends, as she nursed something tall and iced with mint leaves suspended in its concoction, her foot tapping a tattoo on the bar every time her leg jiggled and her high-heeled shoe ricocheted off the illuminated glass below. The entire scene reeked of one-night stands, of shady deals and sorrows drowned, of "just one more for the road" that ended with "I'm in room 1221. Here's my key". It was depressing on so many levels.

The barman delivered their drinks and immediately withdrew to play cupid to the singles he'd left to stew alone at the bar. He saw scenes like theirs play out night after night in this very hotel, and the truth was he'd come to view himself as something of a Shadchan, a matchmaker, so successful was he in picking the lonely pairs he thought should end the night in each other's beds. The hours were long, the bar often quiet late on, he was a romantic…what else was there to do. His grandmother loved his stories, even if the endings were often made up to suit her conservative, old country tastes.

Castle picked up his heavy-bottomed glass of Bowmore 25 year old single malt and swirled the dark liquid around the glass with practiced precision. "So…Beckett, here we are, sitting in a swanky hotel bar in Baltimore and it seems you have plans for me."

He raised his glass to her before taking a sip, though the gesture failed to hide his evident smirk. Kate lifted her own cocktail – a Manhattan - and brought it to her chest without drinking.

"Shut up," she snapped, her face supremely non-cooperative when it immediately cracked into a grin and then she laughed, her entire visage glowing pink, her smile stretched wide, those beautiful teeth on display.

Castle leaned in and clinked his glass against hers. "Is this how you imagined it would happen?" he whispered, for her ears only.

"You think I imagined it?" she countered brazenly.

"Come on," he scoffed, before his certainty dissolved. "_Didn't you?"_

"Maybe." She teased him, with her eyes, with that cherry, with the swirl of her swizzle stick and the pink peak of her tongue through those damp, luscious lips of hers.

"Don't be coy. I've seen inside your overnight bag, Ms Beckett. There's a sight more than an unopened box of rubbers in there."

"You sneak."

"Eh…I think if anyone's the sneak around here it's the woman who booked us a hotel room, bought a box of condoms and some pretty sexy underwear without cluing her partner in. Actually, come to think of it, is the whole witness transfer thing just an elaborate ruse to get me alone in a hotel for the night? Because you could have said and we could have stayed home without the road trip and expense of a five star hotel, Beckett."

"Tell me about it," grumbled Kate, inwardly wincing at the $800 bill she'd let herself in for by booking this place.

Castle batted her concern away with a gesture of dismissal. "I've got the room. Forget that part."

"Don't you dare, Richard Castle. Or you will be seeing none of what's inside that overnight bag ever again."

knowing for once when to give in, he settled back in his armchair, one leg thrown over the other, his shirt unbuttoned enough that he was inadvertently giving Kate a good view of his smooth, hairless chest. "We need this, I get that part. No privacy at my place…"

"And we're stuck in this…this friendship rut we've fallen into…wonderful though that has been. We are stuck. So I thought maybe a change of scene…"

"And one very large king size bed."

"I think they're pretty much all the same size. The clue is in the name," quipped Kate.

"Are you this argumentative in the sack?"

"Do you really call it the sack? Or is this some hangover from your dubious taste in TV?"

"Shucks, give me some credit."

Kate arched one well-maintained eyebrow, leaned in and purred, "Oh, I do."

Her comment was heated, meant to provoke, and then the barman was back asking if they wanted their drinks refreshed before he closed up for the night. The clock was ticking. They were definitely on a countdown to something.

* * *

A second round of drinks was served with a large side order of loosened tongues, if you'd happened to be listening in. Kate, in particular, seemed to be in an all-or-nothing mood.

She toyed with her second maraschino cherry, swirling the sinfully red fruit in her mouth while twirling the stem between the tips of her fingers. "I was trying to forget you…and then I saw you in the hospital." She grazed her eyes over his body and then fixed her stare on his face. "You ruined my plans."

Castle smiled indulgently. "I'm sorry."

"No you're not."

"You're right, I'm not." He scored another mouthful of single malt and let it trickle down his throat, the fumes burning as they rose in a cloud to sting his watering eyes.

"I guess I'm not either. Not anymore. I mean look at me? I booked us a hotel room. Does that sound like me?"

Kate seemed a little on the drunk side, though still seated it was hard to tell. Her talk was bolder for sure, way bolder than usual. Castle couldn't make out if it was the lack of food – they'd shared a bowl of pistachios and nothing more – or if she'd just given up pretending she was going to fight this anymore.

"Maybe not. But I like that you did," he reassured her.

"One of us had to."

"You sound mad. Are you mad at me, Kate?"

"No. But I might be mad at me."

"How about no one is mad with anyone..._and_ we just finish our drinks and go upstairs?"

Kate pulled on the cherry's ripcord, tugging the glistening fruit out between her lips in one of the most obscenely dirty-hot moves Castle had ever witnessed in a public place.

"Okay, you need to stop the thing with the cherry _right now_," he exclaimed, just a little too loudly for a nearly empty bar in the almost-dead-of-night.

"The thing?" she teased, sweet as an innocent schoolgirl…one wearing no panties and the shortest uniform you've ever seen.

Then Kate giggled, a giggle that threatened to become complete hysteria if he didn't remove the insanely turned-on expression from his face within the next three seconds. "You should see your face," she smirked, dissolving into helpless laughter.

"Kate," he growled, glaring at her over the top of his crystal tumbler as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his pants suddenly feeling a little too tight.

"Rick?" she boldly replied, clicking her tongue to form the hard "k" sound at the end of his name as if issuing some kind of challenge. Then she popped the cherry back into her mouth and sucked on it so hard her cheeks went hollow.

"Okay, I'm getting the check," Castle growled again, turning to wave his hand in the direction of the male Patti Stanger positioned behind the bar, his two protégées for the evening now deep in each other's personal space, no room for even a hotel room keycard between their hungry mouths.

Before Castle could compute what was happening, Kate had switched seats, collapsing into his lap, her arm loosely slung around his shoulders and her legs carelessly draped over his thighs.

"One more for the road," Kate told the amused barman, waving the check away and flashing her room key instead so he could continue to serve them.

It was going to be a long night.

_TBC..._

* * *

*P.S. I have no idea what hookers charge, just for the record.


	15. Chapter 15 - Epilogue (Part 3)

_**Chapter 15 – Epilogue (Part 3)**_

_Previously..._

_Before Castle could compute what was happening, Kate had switched seats, collapsing into his lap, her arm loosely slung around his shoulders and her legs carelessly draped over his thighs._

_"One more for the road," Kate told the amused barman, waving the check away and flashing her room key instead so he could continue to serve them._

_It was going to be a long night._

* * *

Kate was still sitting in his lap when the waiter returned with their final round of drinks. The round that would signal their evening, in public at least, was coming to an end.

"Brian, could we get a couple glasses of water to go with that?" asked Castle, seamlessly reading the guy's name off his badge.

The young man nodded and left, but not before giving Castle a long, knowing look, something conspiratorial that made the writer nervous, that made him pause and question.

Castle had no proof beyond a loaded glance, but it was almost as if this young stranger has assumed something about him and about Kate that made them out to be less than they really were. A fling perhaps - two married people tying one on in a dark hotel bar in a forgettable, convenient city remote from home. The husband and the wife of other people. Cheaters here for drinks and a little flirting before they pounced on some months long repressed desire, a desire spawned over the copier machine conceivably. Or was it love at first sight over the rim of a cornstarch-masquerading-as-plastic cup by the water cooler. A bubbling affair about to be consummated now that they were in the freeing, anonymous, unreality of an expensive hotel, where their thoughts could remain far removed from such mundane, guilt-inducing concerns as mortgage payments, diaper changes, orthodontist bills, their sexless marriages, receding hairlines, thickening midsections and dead-end jobs.

Castle hated adultery with a passion but his writer's brain was now in free fall, spinning richer and richer, more and more vivid tales that threatened to dampen his spirits considerably if he couldn't get a grip on reality and clear his head.

One judging look from a stranger that wondered if maybe they were acting out some pedestrian, predictable midlife crisis: that fear that the clock was ticking down, over half the game already over, suddenly realizing it was too late now to _be_ someone. The Nobel prizewinning writer, the poet, the football star, the actress, the supermodel or the singer, the international spy, the cancer specialist, the award-winning inventor or the astronaut anticipated in careless, entitled adolescence. Life's potential was squandered in the heady haze of youth, when people drifted in the belief that there was still time, would always still be time. Castle felt a cold bead of sweat trickle down his back with the percolation of this sickening, gnawing thought. Was this the point he had reached in his own life: over half of it gone, desperately clinging to the hope of a new adventure in Kate?

But instead of killing these doubts with the proof of his own easily measured success, his thoughts spun off, chasing the gloomy spiral cast out by the waiter's single judgmental look; a look that tapped into something primal, something hardwired in Castle's own psyche. Because for a long time that had been his own personal fear: you will never be special, distinctive, achieve much of anything to be proud of. No one will speak of you after your death in the hushed, reverent tones reserved for greatness. No library will archive your papers, iTunes will not sell your back catalog, no museum will curate your art, your photographs, your installations will not grace the walls or empty floor space of any cutting edge Chelsea gallery when they hold a retrospective in your honor. So you cheat on your wife to recreate yourself for a night. Poor you, the look said. I pity you.

Maybe boredom had crept in, Brian's taunting glance seemed to suggest. You are looked on by those younger as already old, despite feeling as young as you did at twenty-five, at least on the days when your left knee doesn't ache. This premature assumption, or misinterpretation of age, is what Castle saw in the younger barman's eyes and he hated the truth his brain was attempting to conjure from that look, along with the depressive effect it was having on both his mind and body.

Affairs allowed for reinvention. Castle knew that from bitter past experience, from Meredith's vain attempts at self-justification after her own, unforgivable indiscretion. You discarded the messy parts of your life: the weaknesses, the failures, the sneaky bad habits you kept to yourself in the beginning when you still had a mind to care and a drive to impress. With an affair you presented the best of yourself, you made an effort, and in the performance of that role you came to believe that you _were_ that pared back, buffed down, shiny, attractive, desirable person you sought so hard to be. You bought the lie, hook, line and sinker, just as you spun it, reeling in your catch. The truth was depressing, and Castle could see all of this knowledge in the other man's eyes: a tired, cynical, almost disgusted distain for the people he believed Rick and Kate to be amidst the deliberately under-lit backdrop of this luxury establishment.

Castle bristled with this knowledge. He had an urge to set the guy straight, but the words wouldn't come. With Kate Beckett's taut ass cradled in his lap, her amazingly long legs cast atop his, and the warm, comforting weight of her body resting completely on top of him for the first time - certainly in any willing sense - he was rendered incapable of explaining exactly what they were – to himself or anyone else. He only knew that he wanted more of this physical closeness and as often as possible. They weren't old, he knew that much, and together their potential for future greatness seemed limitless to him. And no sneering, prematurely cynical barman, whose only life experience was a thousand sad stories gained by some vicarious osmosis across the gleaming mahogany of a backlit bar, would persuade him otherwise.

Gina's premature demise still lingered around him like the reek of death. It was in his hair, on his clothes, it swirled in his nostrils with every breath he took when he made no conscious effort to force it further away. If Gina could be gone – a woman so vivid, so youthful, still in her prime and seemingly omnipresent in Castle's life, then death hovered close to him too. These thoughts colored so much of his view on life, and it colored his reaction to tonight's string of surprises too. Gina left this life through no choice of her own. Had the crash not occurred would they have patched things up? Would they still be together? Would tonight be happening at all? Would he and Kate indeed be cheating as Brian's silent judgement seemed to suggest?

"Here," he heard Kate say just as he felt her long, cool fingers begin caressing the nape of his neck.

When he turned his head away from the retreating waiter to look at his partner, her face was right there in front of him, not an inch between their noses now as she cradled a sinfully shiny, bright red maraschino cherry between her parted lips.

He had no idea where to put his hands. At least that had been his preoccupation before (what he would later come to call) "Cherrygate". But right now he had no idea how to breathe, let alone speak.

Kate nudged his nose with her own and somewhere in his cranium cells fired up enough to realize that she wanted him to take the cherry from her lips.

That's right. _To take the cherry from her lips!_

"Uh," he mumbled, swallowing thickly. "You need a hand with that?"

Her fingers caressed the back of his head once more, her neat, rounded nails sliding deeper into the short hair at the base of his skull before he felt a slight pressure as she angled his head closer to her own. Her face tilted on an axis around the tip of her nose, which was resting against his own. The sweet, slightly almond fragrance of the cherry filled his nostrils, drugging him, until he felt the shiny fruit press against his lips, and then glory, glory hallelujah, his mind went fabulously blank.

Kate waited until the cherry was balanced between their mouths and then she pushed the preserved fruit free with her tongue, ensuring that it passed from her lips to Castle's without breathing air. Just as the last half of the cherry was set to disappear into her partner's mouth, she bit the sticky fruit clean in two, eating her own half with a slow, deliberate mastication that veered towards the pornographic, while watching Castle consume his own share in stunned, moronic disbelief.

Once her cherry was done, she picked up her drink and took a sip to cleanse her palate of the overly sweet, sugar syrup preserving liquor. She felt Castle's hand land on her thigh, the warm weight of his touch one of the most grounding feelings she'd ever experienced. Her shoulders dropped and she let herself relax further into his lap.

"You okay there, partner?" she asked, dancing over his face with the light, giddy gaze of the playfully tipsy.

He rubbed his large hand down her thigh towards the knee and back up again, a kind of experiment. "Never better."

"You gonna drink that?" she asked, nodding towards his untouched drink, which was still sitting on the table beside his chair, the whisky rusty and brooding in the heavy-bottomed, crystal Old-Fashioned glass.

He reached for the Bowmore, as instructed, and clinked his glass against Kate's. "Cheers. Here's to Baltimore. City of Firsts, so they say. Thanks for the memories," he added, downing half his measure in one.

His heart was pounding, his hand shaking a little when he placed the glass back on the glass-topped side table with a loud click.

"City of Firsts, huh?" murmured Kate, swirling her cocktail around her own shallow-sided glass, a secret smile on her lips. "We couldn't have picked a better place, don't you think?"

"_We?_" echoed Castle, sounding slightly amused, doubtful of his role in the selection of this night, this city, and indeed this hotel for their very own intimate first. A last first, if he had anything to do with the path of their lives after tonight.

"Okay, me," agreed Kate, arching her eyebrow saucily to acknowledge her own duplicity, her boldness in steering them here.

"With a motto like that? Seems destined, I grant you."

"Where else would you have chosen?" she asked, pausing before thinking to add, "Had you been the one doing the choosing."

Castle felt his pulse pick up speed again, the fluttering beat actively tangible in his throat when he spoke. "For our first time?"

Saying the words felt daring, in a good way, a liberating way. Not the risk of jinxing things he would have felt in the past. Before the summer started, before the accident, before they grew closer, best friends and more. Before Gina died.

Kate seemed unabashed by the subject matter, the act even, that they were discussing or by her own premeditative actions in coordinating the circumstances required to allow matters to unfold as she now clearly desired them to. While his own thoughts clearly sounded jumbled even inside his head. (see previous sentence) She was unconcerned by how declarative her question sounded coming from someone who, until very recently, had played her cards so close to her chest there was little danger of anyone guessing her opinion of her partner – least of all the man himself - beyond that she had begun to warm to having him around at work.

"Yeah."

Castle sipped his drink, mulling her query. "You're not messing around," he observed.

"Probably because I messed up before. I'm trying the direct route this time…speaking my mind."

"Then if we're being direct, I'd have chosen Paris."

Kate smiled and nodded, perhaps just a hint of shyness making her duck her head at the last second before she said, "The best small town in Texas? Or the City of Love."

"If you need to ask, I've been going about things all wrong. Giving off the wrong signals."

Kate finally blushed, her cheekbones radiating an attractive pinky-peach color that reminded Castle of a ripe nectarine. "That's…"

"Premature?"

Kate shook her head, finding the sensation a little jarring, as if her skull was moving faster than her brain, causing a little internal ricochet of her soft, grey matter. "I don't think so."

Castle's eyes widened. "Is that…I mean, do you think maybe in time—"

She halted his stumbled speech with two fingers to his lips and a whispered request. "If I tell you a secret, will you take me upstairs?"

Her warm breath, fragranced with sweet cherry and a little alcohol, washed over his mouth making his skin fizz with excitement. "You can tell me anything. Read me your grocery list, Kate, and I will gladly take you upstairs."

"I think I'm falling in love with you."

She seemed a little bewildered by this confession. Not by having said it, but by the fact contained within it: that she was falling in love with her partner. Castle was by equal measures giddy with elation beyond compare and crestfallen.

He frowned. "Are you…unsure? Or…or does that make you unhappy?"

Kate shook her head. "No, I'm pretty sure. And…hey, I stopped drinking coffee to forget about you, remember? Does that sound like someone who'd be unhappy in love?"

He knew she loved coffee, so for Castle the act of giving it up left him a little muddled as to the decoding of meaning behind that act of self-denial.

"Uh. It sounds like someone with pretty strong feelings. Though I'm not sure if it's me or coffee you were really giving up."

Kate tipped forward to rest her forehead on the heel of her hand, taking a moment before she looked up at him again. "You walked away with someone else, Rick, assuming that _I_ was still with someone else. Our timing was so bad, our communication was…_lousy_, and then—"

Without breaking eye contact she fumbled around in her lap until she found his hand and then she clasped it hard. "Castle, I nearly lost you. That night on the expressway…anything could have happened."

"True. Only I'm here. _We're _here now, Kate."

Her eyes looked a little glassy, shiny with emotion and alcohol both. She took another breath and pinned him with a look so serious, so grave, he had a sudden urge to laugh. "This could ruin our partnership. You know that."

Castle's response came on slow, after a few seconds deliberation. "Maybe."

"But I don't think I want to pretend anymore." She confessed this to him as if he were a priest, whispered and reverent, a revelatory discovery she'd only just worked out for herself.

"You don't?"

"No."

"What exactly are you pretending?"

"That being your friend is enough. Watching you date other women…" She shook her head, frowning in the process. "I can't do that. Not anymore."

"Good. Me neither."

Kate smirked a little tipsily. "Technically, I don't tend to date other women as a general rule."

Castle laughed. "You are _so_ drunk."

"Am not," she declared indignantly. "I'll recite the Presidents for you if you don't believe me."

"Not as impressive anymore. Not since I saw a two year old run the full pack on YouTube without a single slip up. Kid was still wearing diapers and a bunny print bodysuit."

"Jeez. Next thing you'll be telling me the Gerber baby has his own Twitter account."

Castle gave an amused, confirming nod. "At GerberLife"

Kate let out a gleeful peel of laughter. "I'm not sure which is worse. That he _has_ one or that you know the actual name."

Castle took her hand, stroked his thumb over her wrist. "I know this is role reversal, but we've kind of gone off brief here, detective."

Kate shook her head to clear it, the straight, shiny cut of her hair shimmering in the low light. "What were we saying? Remind me. I might be a little…tipsy."

"You were worried about our partnership if we…move to a more intimate relationship."

"Ah, that. Damned if I do ya," she leered, tugging on his lapel.

Castle barked a laugh of surprise. "Damned if you don't."

"Exactly!" Kate blurted in triumph, jabbing her finger into his shoulder.

"Look, the way I see it, trying to be serious for a second. Our partnership would be over one way or another, whether we date each other or other people." Castle's logic pared their dilemma to the bone.

"So…what do we do?"

"Give this a shot? Us?" He looked like he was making a suggestion, not wholeheartedly behind a solid plan.

"You're sure? Cause you don't sound totally sure."

"What? No. Look, I'm not saying grow old with me, Kate."

With his hand still resting on her leg, he spoke earnestly, while she looked on bereft, as if she felt cheated by the diminished demand he had just made of her.

"You're not?"

Castle's eyes widened and he halted, confused. "Well. Not yet. Unless you want me to?" he rushed to add.

"You think it's too soon?"

They were chasing in circles.

"I—" He looked speechless for one gloriously hilarious second.

"So what _are_ you saying?"

"I guess I'm saying…I'm pretty sure I've fallen in love with you too, and I don't want to let that feeling go. Not for anything. In fact, I want more of it…all the time. Kate, I want—"

When Kate's cell phone rang it startled the ridiculous, idiotic, romantic smiles off both their faces, and Castle's heart sank. But instead of moving off his lap as he expected her to, she simply fished her phone out of her pocket to answer it, seeming more than happy to take the call right where she was.

She had been mid-sip of her Manhattan, more Dutch courage perhaps, when the call came in to shatter their private moment, and in jerking the glass away from her mouth in surprise she had managed to splash the cocktail onto her white shirt in the process. Castle watched as the pink liquid quickly spread across the weft and up and down the warp threads of the silk fabric like a blooming bloodstain. Kate's hand splayed over Castle's thigh as she resisted his second attempt to dislodge her from his lap.

"Hey, Espo. What's up?" she asked instead, squeezing his quad to indicate that he should just relax.

Castle observed with bemused glee as his normally buttoned-up partner of two years took a work call while sitting sprawled across his lap in a hotel bar. He tried to focus beyond the curves of her body pressing against his to make out the gist of the call and the reason for its lateness. Kate helpfully repeated some of what Javi said so he would understand.

Basically, the pick-up tomorrow morning had been moved to a new location, one the girl, Harmony Cisse, would be safer in overnight after some street intel had reached them from New York that their main suspect, Djibril Martin, had found out that Harmony was hiding out down in Baltimore and that she had been seen talking to police.

Castle cut his gaze from the phone in Kate's hand to the livid stain now marring her left breast. At least if she caught him staring this time he had a cover story. He flagged down the passing barman, who was in the process of extinguishing the little votive candles burning on tables around the bar.

"Hey, Brian, can I get a glass of club soda and a bunch of napkins?" he asked, gesturing in Kate's general direction to indicate the unsightly pink stain.

"Is that Castle?" asked Esposito, causing Kate to roll her eyes at her partner. "Where are you guys? And what's up with the club soda? Did Castle spill ketchup on his pants again?"

"No, he did not," Kate replied, employing a no nonsense tone to defend her partner's dignity. "We haven't even eaten yet. So, I'm gonna go before one of us passes out. Okay. Tell the Sergeant he can reach me on my cell if they make any more changes to the arrangements before tomorrow. And, Javi, text me that new address, would you?"

"Someone's nosy," remarked Castle after Kate had ended the call, as he accepted the club soda and a clean cloth from Brian.

"What's new?" muttered Kate, watching Castle move around her body with care as he soaked the white rag in soda and then hovered it in front of her shirt with a dawning question in his eyes.

"Well…go on…if you're going to," she prompted, egging him on.

He thrust the damp cloth out to her, losing his nerve. "Maybe you should do it."

"You have a better angle," she argued, before smirking and adding, "Not to mention way more practice…with stain removal, I mean."

"Because I have a kid, is the fact I hope you were referring to."

Kate shook her head, teasing him with a sexy grin. "Uh. I'm pretty sure Alexis got through most of her formative years without spilling so much as a drop of grape juice. She's too ladylike."

"Did not. I cleaned her up plenty of times."

"Mm-hmm," Kate hummed doubtfully.

"Though I may have cleaned a few more spills of my own. If we're counting."

Kate conceded the contest gracefully, dragging her gaze away from Castle's flushed face to inspect the stain on her shirt. "This'll be way easier to clean if I just take it off," she said, plucking at the hem to free it from her pants.

"Whoa there, little lady," said Castle, catching her wrists before she could start on the row of tiny pearl buttons.

Kate blinked at him innocently. "What's the problem?"

"Maybe you should do that up in the room," he suggested, looking around to indicate that they were in a public place in case she'd forgotten.

"There's no one left in here," Kate replied, also looking around. "We're the last two _in_ this joint."

"Maybe that should tell us something."

Kate glanced over at the bar. "You think Brian wants to go home?"

"I think Brian is a presumptuous, judgmental jerk and he can wait until we're good and ready."

"Good. So do I. Did you see the way he smirked at us earlier? Like we're a pair of seedy adulterers or something."

Castle couldn't quite believe Kate was still capable of being so perceptive given how tipsy she appeared just a moment ago. But then he had long ago learned not to underestimate his partner.

"I also think we have an early start tomorrow and we'll need our wits about us to deal with whatever young Harmony throws our way. _So_…if you're ready, we should really go upstairs."

Kate seemed to sober instantly at Castle's seriously pitched, though gentle, argument. There was no hint of leering, teasing or anything suggestive in his tone at all, just honest sincerity that the best thing for them both was to go up to bed. Kate was impressed.

"Help me up?"

She'd been sitting in his lap for so long her legs felt like they might have gone to sleep.

"My pleasure," her partner said quietly, placing one hand on her elbow and one on her waist to steady her when she got to her feet.

Once safely upright, she waited for him to finish his drink and gather up his wallet and cell phone.

"Night," Kate said to the lone barman, who was currently returning a bowl of unused limes to the fridge.

"Y'all have a good one," Brian drawled, giving them both a nod, saving a final leering smirk and an oversized wink for Castle once Kate's back was turned.

Castle touched Kate's arm to get her attention. "Would you give me a second? I'll meet you out by the elevator," he said, not hiding in any way what he was about to do.

Kate nodded slowly then she stretched up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "Don't be long," she told him, letting her hand slide down from his shoulder, over his bicep, before squeezing his forearm and then heading out of the bar alone.

"Hey, man. Did you need something?" asked Brian as soon as Castle came back into view.

"Nope. Just a quick question. My wife and I were debating earlier, kind of a friendly argument type thing. She swears you're single but I—"

Castle broke off after watching the guy's face fall on the word "wife". No need to continue his charade any further.

He nodded once and backed away. "Yeah, man. My _wife_. How about that, huh? And the old magic's still there after all these years. Still likes to sit in my lap like we're teenagers." Castle pointed to the guy before he turned away and headed for the door. "Well, good luck to you my friend," he said, murmuring under his breath once his back was to the barman, "cause I think you're going to need it."

Kate was waiting for him out by the elevators, her shoulder propped against the wall.

"Well?" she asked, one eyebrow cocked in amusement.

"Well what?" asked Castle, stabbing impatiently at the call button.

"Did you lay him out cold for his sneering little performance?"

"No. But I did set him straight. I don't think he'll be judging any more books by their covers for a while."

"I see what you did there, Mr. Castle, world famous novelist," Kate giggled, sliding her arm through her partner's.

The elevator doors opened before them like a silent mystery, and they stepped aboard together.

"Come on, Beckett. Let's get you up to bed."

_TBC..._


End file.
